


Noctuis

by HuiLian



Series: Noctuis [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: ASL, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Canon-Typical Violence, Clark Kent Cameo, Conner Kent Cameo, Dick Grayson is Batman, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Gen, Jim Gordon Cameo, Kara Zor-El Cameo, YeetDC2020, preboot version of their characters, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25844260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HuiLian/pseuds/HuiLian
Summary: Dick hasn't heard from the Court of Owls in years. He has thought about them, because they never truly left his mind, but he hasn't heard from them in years. But when a man is murdered with a knife that has a familiar owl on its handle, Dick finds himself, and his family, being caught once again in the owl's nest.---My Court of Owls rewrite AU, with Dick having trained to become a Talon but Bruce eventually saved him, and more or less preboot version of their characters.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon & Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Series: Noctuis [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/954840
Comments: 154
Kudos: 321





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> I am so excited to finally be doing this fic! This is my first multi-chaptered, actual plot fic that I post two whole years after making this universe. 
> 
> Huge, huge thank you to [ Lulaypp ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulaypp), or Fori as she's called for beta-ing this fic and taking my weird words and fixing them. Huge thank you also to the Batfamily 18+ Discord channel that showered me with attention as I work my way around this fic.
> 
> So, without further ado, lets go! I hope you enjoy the ride!

Dick stands near the podium, watching Bruce give his speech. He already knows that the speech is about looking forward to the future to create a better Gotham, instead of focusing on the city’s grim present and past. However, Dick finds himself thinking about the city as it _was_ and still _is_ , despite the point of Bruce’s entire speech is for people to not do so.

Dick can’t help it. Bruce starts the speech with stories of his connection to Gotham, and Dick finds himself remembering his own association with the city, and all that entails. 

He wishes he could say he hasn’t thought of the Court for years, but that would be a lie. 

Without Dick realizing it, Bruce has finished his speech. The socialites and elites of Gotham lap it up, of course. Dick knows that a lot of them don’t really believe in what Bruce is saying: invest in Gotham’s future and we can make Gotham a better place--and Dick has his suspicions about which of them actually _wants_ to make a better Gotham, considering what he knows about them--, but they take it anyway. That’s Gotham’s elites for you. 

Dick waits until Bruce has done his cursory thank-yous before putting himself next to Bruce’s elbow. He knows how much these rich people _hate_ it when he interrupts their conversations with their beloved Brucie, but that makes him do it more often. 

Spite. What a powerful motivator.

“ _Are you sure about this?_ ” Dick starts signing, not really caring who sees. It’s not like any of the people surrounding Bruce knows ASL anyway. They never care enough to learn. 

“ _Yes,_ ” Bruce signs back. 

“ _Don’t you have enough to do with Batman Inc.?_ ” Dick can’t say how much he loves that he can actually talk about Batman in public. He just has to slide everything under the blanket of Batman Inc.. After all, it’s public knowledge that Bruce Wayne is funding Batman Inc. No more searching for increasingly ridiculous excuses.

Plus, it is not like anyone around them knows what they’re saying. Like Dick said before, they don’t care enough to learn. But it’s always good to be safe.

“ _Actually, I’m thinking of spending more time in Gotham._ ” The people surrounding Bruce start to disperse, grumbling and whispering to themselves and each other, after it becomes clear that Bruce is not going to translate his conversation with Dick to the people surrounding him. Honestly, by now, they should know already. It’s not like this hasn’t occurred many, many times before. “ _I-_ ”

Dick stops Bruce with a hand. With the crowd surrounding them, or more precisely, surrounding Bruce, clearing, Dick can see Commissioner Gordon, standing near a window as he talks to his phone. While the sight is not something out of the ordinary, especially in an event like this,the words that Dick can read from his lips, however, are unusual. 

_… stab wounds… I’ll be there…_

Well, maybe even that is not something new. It’s Gotham, after all. Despite Bruce’s, and lately Dick’s, efforts, victims of stabbings are still common. What’s extraordinary is the fact that the GCPD is calling the commissioner about a stabbing, when they know perfectly well he’s attending a function. 

Not a regular crime then. 

Bruce, noticing that Dick’s focus is now on the Commissioner, moves his attention to him. 

They both watched Jim Gordon for a while, and when the Commissioner hangs up, Bruce signs, “ _Are you going out?_ ”

Dick nods. He’s already thinking of excuses, and whether or not he should take Damian. A stabbing doesn’t sound like a case Dick would keep away from him, but if they’re calling the Commissioner about it…

“ _Want me to come with?_ ”

No, Dick’s not going to bring Damian. If they’re calling the Commissioner because of some mystery surrounding the stabbing, then he’ll involve Damian later. The kid needs more detectiving practice. But if it’s something else, something more horrible than just a mystery, then he’ll work the case alone. Damian doesn’t need more violence in his life. 

At least not more than what he usually sees on a daily basis. 

“ _No,”_ Dick signs. “ _I’ll go alone. It’s your party, you should be here. Keep an eye on Damian._ ” Dick watches as Bruce’s eyes go distant--the way they did when he doesn’t understand something--at the sign name Dick has given for Damian, index finger up, palm facing outwards, which is then continued by the palm turning, while touching the chest with the middle finger. The letter D, moving onto a modified sign for heart. Dick has been meaning to have that conversation with Bruce for a long time, now, about what Damian means to him and how they will navigate that now that Bruce is back, but they never seem to have the time. Maybe Bruce being in Gotham more will be good for them. For all of them “ _Make sure he’s not putting anything on fire_ ,” Dick finishes, teasing a bit. 

Bruce eyes him warily. Dick knows he’s not sure whether Dick is joking about the fire bit or not Dick just smiles as he tries to figure it out. 

Maybe Damian _will_ put something on fire. And with both Tim and Cass in attendance, chaos will still reign even if Damian doesn’t light anything up. Tim and Damian are bad enough, but Dick has learned recently that putting all three of them in close proximity to each other for a prolonged period of time will only result in chaos. 

It’ll be fun to watch _Bruce_ handle that for a change.

Bruce sighs. “ _I’ll be on standby as back-up, then_.”

 _“You just want to ditch the party._ ”

Bruce flicks Dick’s nose. For a moment, Dick is transported to years ago, having a conversation very similar to this one. Only this time, _Dick_ is the one who’s going out and Bruce is the back-up. It startles him a bit, knowing how far he’s come since those unsure Robin days, shoulders heavy with the need to redeem his mother’s name for him, and always, always scared of the possibility of hitting too hard, of going too far. 

Him and Damian are so much more alike than the kid can possibly think. 

Dick’s shoulders are still heavy now, but it’s a different name he’s bearing, with a different parent behind it. 

No. The mission first. Dick can do his maudlin reflections later. He shakes his head a bit, just to clear it, then signs, “ _I’m going to call Tim or Cass if I need back-up. This is your party, and you’ll stay until the very end of this stupid thing_.”

Bruce flicks his nose again. Or, well, he tries to. Dick ducks down, leaving Bruce’s fingers to flick air. 

“Brat,” Bruce says, huffing with exasperation. Then, his expression turns serious, and he signs, “ _Be careful._ ”

Dick smiles. “ _Always_.”

***

The cape no longer drags him with its weight. It’s still heavy, it’s still weird and constricting, but it no longer pulls him down. Dick wonders what that says about him. 

Since he left Damian back at the party, with plenty of protests from the boy, Batman is flying solo tonight. Dick takes the opportunity to play around a bit, since no Robin means he doesn’t have to be a good example. 

It’s not strictly _professional_ , but it keeps the mythos going. Besides, Bruce used to do it all the time. Still does. 

Dick lands at the crime scene silently, searching for the officer in charge to spook. 

The officer in question is Sergeant Harvey Bullock. Dick sighs internally. No chance of spooking, then. Bullock has been in the game for far too long to be startled by the Bat anymore, whether it is him or Bruce.

“Sergeant Bullock,” Batman says. Dick hates doing it, hates forcing the words out of his mouth, hates the memories that come with it, but unlike Nightwing, Batman cannot be mute. 

It’s bad enough that Commissioner Gordon and a lot of the Rogues know he’s not the original one. He doesn’t need to advertise it. 

“Batman.” Bullock nods at him. “Come on. Let’s go look at some art.”

Sergeant Bullock leads him inside, to where a man is pinned to the wall by knives. 

“The landlord found him on a routine rent run. He went by the name Sam Strigs…,” Bullock says as Dick listens with half an ear. There’s something familiar about the knives. 

Dick moves closer. 

An owl. On the handle of the knives. 

Dick’s breathing stops for a second. He can feel his hands curling around phantom knives, much like these ones. His neck tingles with the sense of being watched. 

No. Dick takes a breath. Bruce said the Court is gone. Bruce said he has run the Court to the ground and burned them himself. 

Dick glances at Bullock. He’s still talking, oblivious to the fact that Dick’s mind had gone somewhere else. Good. It won’t do to have people know that the Batman is scared of the Court. 

There will be riots. No one will take Batman seriously ever again. Dick can’t do that to Bruce.

But then… an owl. The Court is powerful. It’s possible that Bruce hasn’t burnt them all, that they have been hiding, biding their time, waiting for their chance to strike. But, that brings its own sets of questions. The most prevalent one is, why now?

“... has anything to do with the old wive’s tale-”

“I know what you mean,” Batman says. Dick knows. He knows all about the Court of Owls. There’s no need for Bullock to start saying their name out loud. _Speak not a whispered word of them_. Better not to tempt fate. 

He also says that because he can excuse _that_ with Batman’s general sullenness and know-it-all behaviour. The Batman is not scared of the Court of Owls. He just can’t be bothered to listen to their name. 

Dick pulls his eyes away from the knives, surveying the rest of the room. The smell of paint thinner hits his nose, blocking even the stench of the body. 

Why is he smelling paint thinner?

Oh. Maybe. Dick pulls out a lighter from his belt, then starts walking around the room, trying to find where the smell is strongest. 

The smell is strongest on the wall right opposite of Sam Strig’s body. Dick observes the wall. He doesn’t see anything that will give him clues, but paint thinner _does_ leave no trace on this kind of wall. Dick flicks the lighter on and approaches the wall. He hopes he’s not wrong, because if he is, then he’ll be burning the crime scene down.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Bullock shouts, but it’s too late. The fire has caught. 

It illuminates the room. Well, the good news is, Dick is not burning anything down. 

The bad news is, the fire writes, _RICHARD GRAYSON WILL DIE TOMORROW_.

Well. Dick has had his share of death threats over the years, but none so… dramatic as this. 

“Tomorrow?” Bullock says. “Our time of death is a week ago, so the ‘tomorrow’ Strigs thought of already came and went. This Grayson boy should be in the clear.”

“Unless he knew when he’d be found,” Batman says. 

Bullock narrows his eyes, then grimaces. “The landlord says he always comes on the second Friday of the month. Maybe our victim knows he’s going to die and be found today, and left a warning for this Grayson boy.” Bullock snorts. “Then good luck to that killer. Grayson’s Wayne’s adopted son, and Wayne’s security _has_ security. I’m guessing you know the boy? What with Wayne being your-”

Batman grunts. Why would a dying man leave a warning message for his killer’s next victim? Unless…, unless the one writing the message is not Sam Strigs. 

If it’s a Talon writing that message, if it’s the Court who’s sending that message…

“I’ll be seeing you, Bullock,” and with that, Dick is gone before Bullock can answer. He has a murderer to catch. 

***

“Are you insane?” Bruce says. Other people will say that Bruce is completely unaffected. Dick knows better. He’s speaking to _Dick_. “The Court is back in Gotham, they’re threatening you, and you’re telling me to leave?”

Dick sighs. He would also like to be stressed about this, but when he comes back to the Bunker and tells Bruce about the situation, he sees that Bruce is actually panicking over this. He decides then that he’s going to be calm and collected. No sense in having _two_ Batmans that are panicking, after all.

“ _We don’t know if it’s the Court or not. It could be a copycat._ ”

“I’m not leaving, Dick. You should have called me the moment you have any indication that it’s the Court instead of letting me play billionaire in a party all night.”

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Even if this is the Court, Bruce has been protecting Dick against them for so long now. It’s Dick’s problem, and it’s past time he handled it. 

_“I can handle it,_ ” Dick signs, perfectly calm and collected. He’s not, not really, but Bruce wouldn’t even consider going if Dick isn’t the picture of serenity. 

He loves Bruce for that, but Bruce shouldn’t be worrying about Dick anymore. Not when he has so much more to worry about. 

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m… I’m not saying you can’t handle it, Dick. I…”

Dick laughs a little bit. Even with the threat of the Court swirling at the back of his mind, it’s always fun to see Bruce getting flustered with emotions, instead of locking them down and playing the unfeeling Batman. 

Dick taps Bruce’s fingers, forcing the man to pay attention to him, then signs, _“You can’t say it, can you? I’m worried._ ”

“Dick,” Bruce says. “It’s the Court.” 

Dick changes his demeanour instantly. “ _I know,”_ he signs. _“It’s time I faced them._ ”

A look passes between them. A thousand unsaid things and a thousand unspoken emotions. 

_There’s no evidence it’s the Court,_ Dick’s look says.

 _They’re smart enough to conceal it,_ Bruce counters.

_Even if it is, I can handle it._

_It’s my job to protect you,_ the set of Bruce’s mouth says.

_I can protect myself just fine._

Bruce takes a breath. Then, in the rise of his eyebrows, he asks, _Are you sure about this_?

And Dick, answering in kind, raises his own eyebrows. _Yes, I’m sure._

“Alright,” Bruce breathes out, “but call for back-up the moment you need it, Dick. I’m serious.”

“ _And by back-up you mean you, right_?” because Bruce is nothing if not paranoid and controlling. He won’t even be in Gotham by early tomorrow morning. The Batman of Tokyo needs his help, and so Bruce is flying out first thing tomorrow. He can’t seriously think that he is going to be Dick’s first point of contact. 

Nowadays, Gotham is not lacking in protectors, and so Dick is not lacking in back-ups. Babs is here, Stephanie is here, Tim is here. Cass is back, and even Jason can be persuaded to give them back-ups once in a blue moon. Dick is _not_ lacking in back-ups.

“None of them have faced the Court before.”

“ _I have_.”

“Dick,” Bruce growls.

Dick sighs. “ _I promise to call for back-up, but I’m not promising to call you. Tokyo needs you much more than we do. We can handle this._ ”

Another thousand unsaid things. Another thousand unspoken emotions. 

“Fine,” Bruce sighs.. 

Dick smiles at him. He turns to go to the lockers to change out of his suit, but before he steps out of the room, Bruce adds, “You know that the mission is not more important than you, right?”

He is gone before Dick can answer.

***

“How much longer do I have to endure this, Grayson?”

“ _You love it,_ ” Dick teases. 

Damian scoffs. “I repeat, how much longer do I have to endure this, Grayson?”

Dick laughs. Damian glares at him, but he doesn’t stop stirring the sauce, despite all his complaints in the last twenty-three minutes. Dick tries to stop laughing, but one look at Damian’s glare gets him starting again. 

It warms Dick’s heart, to see his little brother stirring the sauce next to him. The Damian from months ago would have stabbed him with a kitchen knife before deigning to accompany Dick in cooking. The sight even manages to push the threat on his life to the very back of his mind. 

Dick takes a few deep breaths to calm himself. Damian won’t appreciate it if he keeps laughing at him. Then, Dick walks over and ruffles Damian’s hair before taking over the spatula. Only Damian can make stirring pasta sauce sounds like torture. 

“ _Give me the tomatoes,_ ” Dick signs. 

“Yes, I know, Grayson,” Damian grumbles, handing Dick a plate of chopped tomatoes. “And stop signing while you’re stirring. We don’t want a repeat of last Thursday.”

Dick stops stirring, then gives Damian his best conspiring look. “ ** _Nothing_** _happened last Thursday._ ”

Damian snorts. “Keep telling yourself that. I will break the moment Pennyworth asks me about it. I do not wish to incur his wrath. _Again_.”

“ _The mighty Damian falls under Alfred’s wrath, huh?_ ”

“It would be prudent to do so,” Damian says. “And stop _signing_.”

Dick laughs again. It’s fun, actually, being in the Penthouse’s kitchen, cooking dinner with his little brother, despite the complaints from Damian. It also serves to give Alfred a break every once in a while. God knows the man needs it. 

The sunlight glints on the countertop, unhindered by anything. It’s almost sunset already. Dick knows that the Court can strike just as well, if not better, at night, but the sight of the sun setting calms Dick’s beating heart somewhat. At night they are Batman and Robin, not Dick and Damian. At night Dick can protect his brother more. 

It’s ironic, that Dick likes Damian to be on the streets better than at home, but on the streets, he can lead any attempts on Dick’s life _away_ from Damian. He can’t do that here. 

Dick is perfectly fine with the Court threatening _him_ , but he cannot bear it if his family is in danger. Never mind that all of their lives are at risk every time they put on a mask. 

But they can handle those dangers. They have for years now. The Court though. The Court is something else. The Court is Dick’s problem. 

A shadow appears over the countertop. And from its angle, whatever it is is perching on the windows. Too big to be a bird, and anything else won’t perch on the window. 

No. No. Not now, not when he’s so close to getting through the day unscathed. 

Not when _Damian_ is so close to getting through the day unharmed. 

_Down_ , Dick signs with the field signals, ones that only his family and his Titans know. Ones that Damian is trained to recognize and obey instantly.

He does, thank god. Damian puts down the basil he’s been chopping and takes cover behind the kitchen counter.

Not a moment too late, because once Damian’s head went out of sight, the window breaks. The windows at Wayne Tower are supposed to be unbreakable, but…

It’s a Talon. It’s a Talon standing inside Dick’s kitchen, in _very_ close proximity to Damian. 

So it _is_ the Court. 

And they have sent a Talon for Dick’s head. 

Dick moves into his stance. From the uniform, Dick knows that the Talon in front of him is his great-grandfather, William Cobb. That’s both good news and bad news, because Dick knows how Cobb fights, but Cobb also knows how Dick fights. After all, he’s the one who trained Dick all those years ago. 

He’s also a damn good fighter.

But Dick has spent the years since their last encounter training with other people and he’s guessing that Cobb hasn’t. He throws the pan filled with hot pasta towards Cobb, trying to buy some time. 

As Dick had expected, the pasta didn't hurt Cobb,but it did give him time to take a knife from the knife block on the counter. Distantly, Dick remembers Damian holding a knife before he took cover, and wonders where _that_ knife is, but Dick pushes that thought out for later. 

Dick has batarangs on his person, as always, but he’s not sure whether the Court already knows that tidbit of information, so he doesn’t dare pull them out. 

Cobb throws his own knife. Dick ducks and rolls towards Cobb. Another knife, this one aimed downwards. Dick leaps up. 

Cobb may be good, but Dick is right. Cobb’s skills, although impressive, hasn’t improved in the years since their last meeting. 

Dick’s has increased exponentially. 

But he’s in civvies, with only the one knife as a weapon. Cobb is in his full Talon regalia, with dozens of knives, two swords, throwing darts, and possibly several grenades. He also has regenerative abilities. Dick does not. 

Dick aims a kick towards Cobb’s eyes. Cobb evades it, but that’s okay. It is supposed to be a feint anyway. Dick knows what move Cobb will use to evade the kick and he makes use of that by slashing at Cobb’s back. 

It hits, but Dick knows the cut will heal soon enough. Dick has to be fast. He trips Cobb’s legs and strikes at his neck. 

Dick used enough force to shatter a normal person’s trachea, but Cobb is a Talon, and so even that is not hard enough. Cobb takes the hit, but still manages to land one of his knives into Dick’s arm. 

Dick does not have regenerative abilities. 

Dick rolls away, protecting his injured arm. Cobb does not have the same qualms. He starts to say, “Richard Grayson. The Court of Owls has-”

His words are cut off by a knife to the spine. Damian. What is he _doing_ , staying here? He’s supposed to be out and _safe_. 

The knife did give Dick the opportunity to kick Cobb out of the window. He doesn’t even twitch, because Damian apparently had lodged his knife deep into Cobb’s spine. Not even a Talon can heal with a knife still embedded there. 

That done, Dick turns towards Damian, hands already moving. 

Damian doesn’t even blink. He just says, “You’re hurt,” like that’s all there is to be said. 

Dick begs to differ. _“What are you doing? You could’ve gotten hurt!_ ”

“So you would have me leave you?” 

_“Yes!”_ Dick signs that with more force than the sign actually needs. _“When I tell you to leave, you leave._ ”

“You didn’t tell me to leave,” Damian protests. “You told me to go down. And I did.”

Dick starts to sign again, before he looks at Damian. The kid meant well, and Dick can see that Damian is shaken up by the attack. He’s just trying to help. And Dick can’t really fault that logic. But still…

 _“You know what I meant. Don’t do that again_.”

“Tt,” Damian clicks his tongue. He stops for a moment, and Dick lets him. Sometimes Damian needed more time to gather his thoughts, and Dick is more than happy to oblige him. “Are you not going to reprimand me about the knife?”

Oh. Damian didn’t know. 

“ _You didn’t know about the healing abilities_?”

“No. I suspected, based on the way he paid no mind on your attack on his trachea. Anyways, it wouldn’t have killed even a normal human being. It would only paralyze them.”

Dick sighs. He really shouldn’t encourage the violence, but the kid did save him. And Dick owes him an explanation. 

“ _Don’t do that to a normal human being. Otherwise, good job.”_ Dick ruffles Damian’s hair again, with his uninjured arm. Then, he sobers up, and signs, “ _That’s a Talon._ ” Dick doesn’t elaborate. The kid knows about the Court already. 

Damian’s face turned dangerous. Dick will have to watch out for that. Damian opens his mouth.

 _“No,_ ” Dick signs, stopping Damian before he even starts. _“We’re not going to go after them now. Go get Alfred, then get packing_.”

“Packing?” Damian asks, perplexed.

 _“This place is compromised already. We’re moving to the Manor_.”

***


	2. ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm supposed to post this tommorrow (and I will be posting new chapters on Tuesdays folks!), but my country celebrates its independence day today and I want to celebrate it, so have chapter 2 early!
> 
> cw: the last scene has Dick experiencing some sort of disassociative episode. So watch out for that and skip it if you need to!

“You’re benching me?!” Damian shouts. 

“ _It’s the Court of Owls, Damian. It’s too dangerous._ ”

“I know how dangerous it is! It can’t be worse than the League!”

Dick abandons his suiting up to look at Damian. “ _You know the League. You’ve fought them before. You haven’t with the Court. You can’t even identify a Talon._ ” Dick reaches out to Damian, not just to make sure that Damian knows not being able to recognize a Talon by sight is not a failing on his part, but also to make sure that Damian knows just how dangerous the Court is. “ _It’s too dangerous_.”

“You promised Father you’d bring back-up,” Damian says. 

“ _You saw that?_ ” Dick shakes his head. No, that’s not what this is about. _“I said I’d call if I need back-up. I haven’t as of now_.”

“You _just_ said it’s dangerous. And dangerous missions means back-up!”

Dick sighs. Now that Robin is _his_ responsibility, he can appreciate Bruce’s side of it more. How to explain to Damian that he doesn’t want him out with Dick because it would mean him getting hurt?

_ “I’ll call Black Bat. Or Red Robin _ .” A smidge more preferable than calling Robin, really. He doesn’t want to bring _any_ of his family into danger, but he has learned his lesson on not asking for help. 

He just doesn’t want _Damian_ to be the one helping him. Not in this case. 

“I thought we’re partners!” Damian spits out.

“ _We are.”_ Dick hopes he’s made it clear to Damian that they _are_ partners, that what they have is not simply because of Dick’s pity and sense of responsibility. But sometimes, sometimes even Batman needs to go solo. _“That’s why I’m tasking you with finding any digital trails on how the Court is here again_.”

“That’s busywork, Grayson, and I do not appreciate it.”

“ _It’s not busywork,”_ Dick sighs. Really, _how_ can he tell Damian that he doesn’t want him to get hurt doing this case? And how to make him actually listen to it? “ _I’m doing the same thing, only I’m finding physical ones_.”

Damian clicks his tongue, his displeasure clear.

Dick sighs again and crouches down next to Damian, noting just how _small_ and _young_ he is. His life has been nothing but pain and violence, but he still insists on being Robin, at fighting the evils of the world, even as he fights against his own instincts from the League every single day. Dick looks at Damian, and promises to himself that he wouldn’t let the Court even _touch_ him. “ _Damian,_ ” he signs, cheating a bit because he knows how Damian reacts whenever Dick signs his name, “ _I’m not going against them now. I’m just finding clues. I swear I’ll call for back-up when I find anything._ ”

Damian backs down. He looks at Dick for the longest time. Dick tries to appear calm, the way he did for Bruce last night, the way Bruce always did for him all those years go, but Damian is always strangely good at reading Dick. Dick tries to _be_ calm instead.

Finally, Damian says, “Anything, anything at all, Grayson, and you call for back-up.”

“ _Yes.”_

“ _Anything_ at all.”

“ _Yes_.”

Damian’s expression doesn’t change, but he nods, slowly. 

Dick lets out a breath of relief. He stands, and finishes suiting up, with Damian watching his every movement. After Dick has put everything on except the cowl, he signs, “ _Any connection at all to the Court, no matter how flimsy, note it._ _They are good at covering their tracks_.”

Damian raises his eyebrows. “I am not incompetent, Grayson.”

Dick snorts, resisting the temptation to flick Damian’s nose. The boy won’t take it as well as Dick did with Bruce. 

Time to go. Dick pulls his cowl up. “ _Brief Oracle and ask her for help. They are good_.”

“Yes, Grayson,” Damian says, sounding put upon in a way only he can. “Now go. You have sewers to go through.”

***

The thing is, Damian is right. Dick does have sewers to go through. He knows where a lot of the Court’s previous bases are, of course, but those are being kept under close surveillance by Bruce. There is only a very, very slim chance that the Court will come back to them, and so Dick doesn’t waste his time on them.

They won’t come back there, anyway. The Court knows that Dick knows, and so by extension, if they’re smart--and they are, to be able to escape detection from Batman for all these years proves that much-- they have to assume that the Batman knows. Batman _was_ the one who saved Dick from them, after all. 

The fact that Dick is now the Batman notwithstanding. 

So, Dick goes through the sewers, because even though the Court likes to say that they _perch_ to rule Gotham, the fact is, most of their hideouts are in the sewers. They are justified in doing so, too. One of the easiest ways to go through Gotham mostly undetected is through the sewers. The other is through the rooftops, of course, but if there were Talons running through the rooftops of Gotham, the city’s various vigilantes must have caught them years ago. 

It is more than likely that the Court kept their sewers pathways. Dick doesn’t know all of their bases, and by now, it’s clear that the Court can hide right underneath Batman’s nose. Most of their known bases are underground, accessible by the sewer system, and so that is where Dick is, hoping he can find something. 

Dick walks slowly, systematically turning his flashlight, making sure not to miss a spot. So far, he hasn’t found anything. 

The sound of water dripping caught Dick’s attention. It’s different than all the other splashes in the sewers. Dick aims his flashlight towards the sound. Nothing. He waited for a few seconds before returning to his search.

Drip. 

Dick tenses. Once is a coincidence, but twice is a pattern. That’s what Bruce taught him. Dick turns off his flashlight and turns on his night vision. He’s been using a flashlight because the night vision is horrible at finding clues, but thankfully, it is excellent at fighting. 

Drip. To his left.

Drop. To his right. 

Drip. In front of him

Drop. Behind him. 

Shit. he’s surrounded, isn’t he?

Dick reaches up to call for back-up, but a dart hits him in his already injured arm. Then, in a quick succession, before Dick can do anything, two darts lodge in his stomach. His suit is fairly resistant to sharp objects, but most of the goons in Gotham uses guns. So a dart, thrown with a Talon’s strength, will pierce through his suit.

Dick can feel his mind slipping. Is there something laced on the darts? Dick stumbles and falls down.

“Do not kill him,” a voice says. “The Court wants to see him.”

Thoughts are swimming inside Dick’s head, one crashing to the other. Does the Court know who he is? Why here? How long has the Court been watching him, then?

But even as thoughts crash against each other, every single one of them fighting for attention Dick cannot give, one thought stands out. Is his family safe?

***

Dick wakes up slowly. Everything around him is white. White, white, white. The kind of white that is blinding. The kind of white that is blisteringly cold. The kind of white that features heavily in his nightmares. 

No. Dick takes a breath in, out, and then another one. He’s fine. He can get out. He’s Batman, and he can get out. 

“Welcome to the Labyrinth, Batman!” A voice fills out the entire space around him. Dick knows that voice. It has starred in many nightmares and hallucinations. It’s a different voice, but it’s also the same.

Dick knows that voice. It’s the voice of the Owls.

No. 

Nononononononono

Dick breathes in again. Five things he can see. 

White walls. White floors.

White floors. White walls.

White.

No. Stop. Think. Four things he can touch. 

Granite. Granite. His gauntlets. His cowl. 

BatmanBruceDamianTimCassAlfredBarbaraStephanieJason…

Stop. Three things he can hear. 

Welcome to the Labyrinth. Welcome to the Labyrinth. Welcome to the Labyrinth. 

No. That’s not right. Two things he can smell.

Blood. Poison.

One thing he can taste. 

Metal on his tongue.

Welcome to the Labyrinth, Batman. Welcome to the Labyrinth, Batman. Welcome to the Labyrinth. 

Welcome to the Labyrinth, Gray Son. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and with that, I leave you. See you all next week (on tuesdays), folks!  
> still huge thank you for fori ( [ Lulaypp ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulaypp) here on ao3) for beta-ing this fic. You won't believe how many things she made better. go check out her fics too!


	3. iii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> class is starting in two weeks :(((  
> this fic will keep on posting, because I have finished writing it, but i won't be as active with other works :(  
> on a lighter note, I am applying for work-study!!!!!!!!! wish me luck!
> 
> enough with the life-updates! enjoy the chapter!

The signal is on, and Batman is here. That should be it. That _should_ be it, but Jim can’t help but say, “Why are _you_ here?”

Batman grunts. The sound makes Robin angle himself ever so slightly away from Batman, which is absurd, because this is _Batman and Robin_.

But then, this Batman is not the other half of this particular Robin, and from what he’s seen, this Robin doesn’t particularly play well with others other than _his_ Batman. There’s something wrong with _this_ Robin’s Batman, Jim is sure of it, so he ventures to ask, “Is he okay?”

Batman grunts again. It might have been months since Jim has had to read _this_ Batman, but he’s had years of experience under his belt. Batman doesn’t know either. 

So, even though Batman has answered the signal, and even though there is nothing he truly needs Batman’s help for, Jim keeps the signal on. There is nothing Jim can do to help that Batman, other than provide a light that’ll guide him home. 

Jim hopes it’s enough.

Jim also hopes that the kid is going to be okay. 

(Jim remembers the first Robin clearly. The way he can put on a show so well it fools even Jim, at first. Jim remembers feeling every single year he’s lived weighing his shoulders when that same boy shows up in the cape and cowl to answer the signal, putting on a show all the while. 

A different show, but a show all the same. 

Jim hopes the kid is okay.)

***

They are watching. They are always watching. 

They are listening. They are always listening. 

Dick knows the water is drugged, the same way he knows the taste of blood on his tongue and the grip of knife handles on his fingers. 

Dick knows the water is drugged, but he drinks it anyway. What choice does he have?

Dick stumbles away from the well, feeling his thirst lessens but the clouds inside his head grows. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t do anything. 

They are watching. 

They are listening. 

***

Barbara counts every second they’ve spent on the search. A missing person’s time frame of survival is at most 72 hours. It is now 64 hours, thirty-two minutes, and eighteen, nineteen seconds since Dick’s last check-in. 

The time frame extends considerably considering it is Dick that is missing. The time frame also shortens considerably considering it is most likely the Court of Owls that took Dick. 

Another dead end. This has been the eleventh dead end in two hours. Babs changes tactics. 

“Red Robin, any progress?” she says to the mic. 

“No, Oracle.”

Breathe in, breathe out. Switch channels.

“Batgirl, any progress?”

“Negative, O.”

Breathe in, breathe out. Switch channels. 

“Black Bat, any progress?”

“No.”

Breathe in, breathe out. Switch channels.

“Batman, any progress?”

A grunt. No, then. 

Breathe in, breathe out. Mark the places that’s been confirmed to be negative. Breathe in, breathe out. Find new potential locations for the others to search.

Oracle listens to all, whether it is the loudest of proclamations or the softest of whispers. Her webs of information swirl all over the world, taking in everything from the pettiest of crimes to the most outlandish of schemes. Oracle watches over all, so how can an organization as large as the Court of Owls slipped through her net?

Breathe in, breathe out. It is now 64 hours, thirty-five minutes, and forty-eight, forty-nine seconds since Dick’s last check-in. 

***

Dick’s back in the portrait room. They haunt him, those faces. They are frozen in the frame, in time, and in death. Dick looks at those faces and the images of him standing over those faces, looking down at them as they die, assault him. It could have been him dealing the blows. It could have been him holding the knives. 

The Court is trying to tell him a story. About the people they killed. About the power they store. About how they are unafraid of Batman, despite Batman pushing them off years ago. 

But Dick already knows this story. He knows all about the people the Court killed. He knows all about the power the Court has. And he is going to make sure that after he is done, they _will_ be afraid of Batman. 

Dick blinks. The portraits return to just that, portraits. 

Dick goes back into the labyrinth. 

***

“Robin!” Batman growls, but not _his_ Batman. 

“Don’t touch me!” Damian says.

“Robin, stop.” Batman saying something in the span of seconds was not rare, according to the accounts of his mother, his grandfather, and even Pennyworth, but it is rare to Damian. It is rare for _his_ Batman.

It reminds him even more that Grayson is gone. 

“No!” Damian pushes his target to the wall again, knowing that it will bring a multitude of pain to his target, and discovering that he feels guilty for not feeling guilty. “This man knows something and I am not going to stop until he tells us!”

“Robin.” Father’s growl is not that much different than Grayson’s. Perplexingly, it makes him miss Grayson even more. 

He was supposed to call for back-up. He was supposed to be _safe_. 

Damian throws the man to the ground, not really caring about being gentle. The man is a criminal, he was caught red-handed trying to kidnap children, but he knows nothing about Grayson’s whereabouts. 

Damian retrieves the restraints he has with him, tying it on the man as quickly as he can. He has no time to waste. 

He’s going to find Grayson. He _will_ find Grayson. He will. 

The other outcome would be too horrible to even comprehend. 

***

“Dickie? Is that you?” A woman’s voice rang out. 

“We missed you so much, Dick.” A man’s. 

Mom. Dad. 

But how? Dick saw them fall. Dick saw their line broke and he saw them hit the ground. How are they here?

It’s the Court. 

“Come on, son. Come with us.”

Dick walks towards them. He knows, he knows it’s the Court and that this is another one of their tricks, but he has missed them. 

How he has missed them. 

“Come on.”

Dick walks. Closer, and closer, and closer. Until their faces sharpen from the hazy blur he saw before and their hands are close enough to touch. 

Dick can feel the drugs churning inside him, but he finds he doesn’t care. He’s exhausted and injured. He just wants his parents to hold him. 

Dick extends his hand, moving to grab his mother’s. 

Faces morph. John and Mary’s smiling faces turn to the smooth, emotionless white mask of the owls. “We’re the Gray Sons, aren’t we?” they say together. 

No. No. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.

It’s the Court. 

He knows it’s the Court. He shouldn’t have approached them in the first place. It’s the exhaustion and the blood loss and the cocktail of drugs flowing in his veins. 

This is just another trick to catch him. 

Dick moves backwards, away from the parody of his parents. He’s not going back to the Court. Not again. Not ever. 

***

“Oracle. This one is also a bust,” Tim says, knowing that it’ll be another failure in a series of failures for Barbara and pushing his own disappointment down. 

“Copy that, Red Robin. Do you want to check the next one or are you calling it a night?”

It’s four a.m. in the morning. By all rights, Tim should be home in his apartment, bickering with Cass on acceptable sound levels when the other occupant of the apartment is sleeping. By all rights, Tim should be _sleeping_. 

He hasn’t been able to sleep since Dick went missing. 

“I’ll check the next one,” Tim says into his comms. “What’s the address, O?”

A few typing noises, then Oracle says, “Are you sure? You sound exhausted, Red.”

Tim huffs. “So do you.” He is bluffing, of course, because with the voice modulator that Barbara uses, he can’t really tell whether she sounds exhausted or not. But Barbara only uses the voice modulator with the family when she wants to hide something, and _that_ is practically proof. She is exhausted by their failures to find Dick. “What’s the address?”

Barbara sighs. “On King and St. Peters. The thirteenth-”

“The thirteenth floor,” Tim cuts in. He knows he shouldn’t, but he’s running on coffee, adrenaline, and five nonconsecutive hours of sleep in seventy-four hours. “I know. Thanks, Oracle.” 

Tim aims his grapple gun and fires. He knows he should sleep, he knows he functions better with sleep, but he’s not going to be able to sleep knowing that Dick is still out there, possibly in the Court’s clutches. Might as well make good use of the time. 

King and Peters, thirteenth floor.

***

Coffins. Rows and rows of coffins. 

Dick knows this place. He’s heard of it from the other Talons when they were brought in to help his training. The resting place of the Talons. Or more accurately, the storage place. 

The other Talons talked about how being on ice is not resting. It is just being suspended, tucked away until their next use.

If Batman hadn’t saved him, Dick would have been here with the rest of them. 

There are several coffins open. Are they here?

Dick walks between the rows of coffins, heading towards the open ones. Maybe he can figure out who they are, and whether or not he knows them. 

But before Dick can even reach the closest open coffin, he heard a swooshing noise. Dick moves away from a sword clearly aimed at his back. 

Dick turns and faces the Talon, who is holding the sword low on his hands. “Batman,” he says, “the Court of Owls has sentenced you to die.”

The googles. The bandoliers slung across his chest. 

Cobb. 

It seems he’s healed from the knife to the spine.

Dick tries to punch him in the face, but he is weak after days in the Labyrinth. Cobb easily blocks the punch and counters with his sword. Dick moves out of the way again, but this time he’s not fast enough. The sword hits him. 

“You should die knowing your body would not be returned to the surface,” Cobb says, as relaxed as ever. He is confident that he would win. 

Dick stands up. Cobb lets him. Cobb’s toying with him. He knows Dick is weak, he knows that this fight is nowhere near fair with one opponent starved and dehydrated. He is confident he would win this fight. 

That’s going to cost him. Dick is not going to die tonight. _Batman_ is not going to die tonight. 

“The Court has decided to keep your bones here, to be displayed”- another swing of Cob’s sword. It hits Dick’s arm, where the previous stab wound has barely healed. Dick goes down again - “in the Labyrinth forever. A monument to a valiant enemy.”

Dick kicks him, but Cobb simply takes the kick, confident that nothing Dick can do would hurt him. Cobb brings his sword down, towards Dick’s stomach, but Dick manages to roll over and evade the sword at the nick of time. 

Straight into Cobb’s own kicking foot. 

“Do you have anything to say before your death?”

Dick answers that with a headbutt to Cobb’s stomach. Cobb casually brings his elbow down, and Dick sees stars.

“Nothing, then.” Cobb nods derisively. “So all that’s left to do is decide the manner of your death.” He turns towards an audience, clearly visible to him, but invisible to Dick. “My Court! He is prepared!”

Blinding lights. White faces. 

“I present to you, the Batman! How do you wish him to die?”

Voices shouting, drowning each other. The same voices as his nightmares. 

They are coming closer, or is it Dick that’s moving closer towards them?

White faces. White walls. White floors.

Voices that haunt his nightmares. 

They stop, suddenly. But all that does is to let another voice speak out, softer than the others, yet somehow still the same as those that haunt his nightmares. “Hurt him… more.”

Pain. It doesn’t stop. One hand turns to two turns to three turns to too many to count. White masks turn to white faces turn to owls. 

Hands turn to knives turn to claws.

Blood seeping down his clothes. Voices. Lights. 

“Stop.”

Dick breathes in. The pain doesn’t stop, but it doesn’t worsen. The mass of bodies around him parts. Claws retract, and a face, different from the others, towers over him. It’s golden.

“Can it be?” the voice from the golden mask says. The Grandmaster. “Has our Gray Son return at last?”

Gray Son. Gray Son. 

Dick lifts his hand, preparing himself for the pain he surely will receive. Shockingly, no pain comes, so he keeps going. Up, and up, until he can feel his hair. 

The cowl is down. 

Dick swallows. The Court is always watching, he knows that, but now the Court _sees_.

Now the Court knows. 

Dick has damned his entire family. 

“Of course,” the Grandmaster whispers. It runs on Dick’s skin, bringing a chill even though no breeze actually comes. “Who else can survive the Labyrinth as well as you, Gray Son?” A hand touches Dick’s chin, forcing him to look to the soulless eyes of the golden mask. “The Batman took you away and the Batman delivers you back.”

Dick feels his body being hauled upwards. Then, the coldness of a blade on his throat. 

“This changes everything, does it not?” The parliament behind him cheers. “Our Gray Son, returned after many years. The Bat takes good care of you, I see. Your skills have improved.”

The Grandmaster strokes Dick’s face, from the corner of his eye to the curve of his chin. It emphasized that Dick’s face is bare, that his cowl is down. 

It emphasized that Dick has failed his entire family. 

“You have completed the Labyrinth,” the Grandmaster continues, “the only thing missing from your training as Talon. Now you truly are the Gray Son of Gotham, our greatest weapon. Isn’t that right, Gray Son?”

Dick stays silent. He’s not Batman, the cowl is down. He’s Dick Grayson, and as long as he doesn’t speak at the behest of this man, he won’t be the Gray Son of Gotham, Talon of the Court of Owls.

Dick is aware that that distinction only exists in his own mind, but he feels he is allowed his coping mechanism. 

Even if he knows that he doesn’t deserve it. What a selfish man he is, thinking of his own comforts while knowing that he has betrayed his entire family. 

“Answer when the Grandmaster asks you,” Cobb growls from behind him. 

Dick stays silent. Behind him, Cobb presses the knife deeper, almost cutting skin. But Cobb won’t kill him. Not here, not without permission from the Grandmaster. 

And the Grandmaster is still eyeing him like a prize. Dick can’t go back to the Court. He won’t. He’s betrayed his family enough. 

Dick takes his chances. 

The only good thing about having Cobb so close to himself is that Dick can grab anything from Cobb’s arsenal of weapons. Dick knows that suit, and what it carries, as well as he knows his own. He has spent countless hours with it. 

Dick reaches towards Cobb’s side, where he knows a stash of explosives is stored. He lifts them out, elbowing Cobb in the stomach at the same time. 

His arm protests, but Dick ignores it. He throws the explosive to the ground, and tackles Cobb down.

Boom!

The Owls run for cover, including the Grandmaster. Dick braces for impact. His suit can handle the explosion, but not without it hurting. 

It throws both him and Cobb to the ground. Cobb, who didn’t have a chance to properly brace himself, is stunned. Dick quickly moves away, hoping the explosion will keep Cobb down, at least for a while. 

Dick looks around. There’s a hole on the floor. 

No better choice. Dick jumps in. 

Water. Walls. A labyrinth traded with another. 

But the walls are not white. The floors are not white. 

The voices of his nightmares are silent. 

Dick walks and walks and walks, away from the Court, away from the Owls, away from the hands wanting to turn him into a weapon. 

Dick walks until he can no longer see. 

Dick walks until he can no longer hear. 

Dick walks until his legs crumble underneath his own weight, and even then, he crawls.

Dick moves until he can’t. 

He hopes it’s enough. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am sorry for the cliffhangers after cliffhangers XD. on the other hand, 45 people subscribed to this story. Like, that's insane. 45 of you get emails when I update. That's INSANE. 
> 
> THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT AND COMMENTS! ALL OF THEM MAKE ME SMILE SO MUCH AND MAKE ME GIDDY TO POST NEW CHAPTERS BECAUSE I WANT TO READ YOUR COMMENTS!
> 
> once again, thanks to [ Fori ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulaypp) for beta-ing this fic. she is a godsend and you all should go check her works.


	4. iv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! this is quite a long (and soft!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) chapter! have fun reading it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dick wakes to the feeling of familiar warmth encompassing him, the feeling akin to snuggling into a blanket in the middle of winter. It’s such a far cry from the cold, impersonal walls of the Labyrinth, that it takes Dick a moment to determine where he is. 

A grey ceiling illuminated by the light of a computer screen. The beepings of a heart monitor, interrupted with the rustling of bats every so often. The familiar smell of antiseptics. 

The medical bay of the Batcave. 

So Dick manages to escape. Unless, this is just yet another trick by the Court…

“Ah, Master Dick. I see you are awake.” 

The sound of Alfred’s voice dispels every thought Dick has about this being a trick by the Court of Owls. There is nothing in the world quite like hearing it, except maybe Bruce’s voice. It reminds him of home and safety, nothing like what the Court represents. 

Dick blinks and sees Alfred’s worried, yet smiling, face in front of him, which means that Alfred must be leaning over Dick’s bed. He’s not quite as close to Dick as he can be, though, so there must be someone next to him that Alfred doesn’t want to disturb.

Dick turns to see Damian clinging to his uninjured arm. He looks asleep, but Dick knows he will wake the moment he moves his arm, so Dick doesn’t move it even an inch. The bags underneath the boy’s eyes scream that he hasn’t been getting enough sleep, and Dick wants to let him rest for as long as possible. 

Dick turns to his other side and sees Cass smiling at him. She also looks exhausted, but Dick doesn’t even try telling her to go back to sleep. She probably woke up the moment Dick’s body decided to, before even Dick himself knows about it.

Dick sees Alfred walking around his bed to adjust his IV, but he disappears from Dick’s sight for a moment, so Dick twists his body around, without moving the arm Damian has claimed, to see what made Alfred do so. The sight of a black mop of hair greets him, and Dick knows that it’s Tim, slumped on the side of Dick’s bed.

Dick moves to ask Cass to release his hand so that Dick can sign, but she does it before Dick even moves a muscle. He looks up at Alfred, who Dick knows is making adjustments Dick doesn’t need to his IV to avoid something undignified according to Alfred's standards, like hugging him, and then back at Cass, before signing, _“What happened?_ ”

“We found you,” Cass whispers, careful not to wake Tim and Damian. “In the sewer.”

“You were quite in the condition, Master Dick.” Alfred’s voice betrays what he doesn’t want his face to reveal. “You have been missing for over a week.”

“ _We were worried_ ,” Cass signs. 

Dick smiles at her, hoping to reassure her. Cass’ eyes tell him that he didn’t quite succeed. 

“ _Is anyone else hurt?_ ” Dick signs, hoping that the answer is not. 

“No, Master Dick,” Alfred says, apparently finishing the adjustments, that Dick doesn’t need, to Dick’s IV. “No one else was hurt. You, however, were hurt quite badly.”

Dick lets out a sigh of relief. It’s good that none of his family is hurt. Dick revels in the feeling before he remembers that the Court knows who he is and that even if none of his family has been hurt _yet_ , the Court will set out to hurt them. 

Damian’s hold on his arm, now that Dick remembers that Dick has damned his entire family, is a curse instead of a blessing. Dick strokes Damian’s hair once, silently apologizing to him, before he looks back at Cass and signs, “ _Is Bruce here?_ ”

Dick doesn’t know whether he wants Bruce to be here or not. On one hand, Bruce being here means that Dick doesn’t have to be in charge. He can step back and dump his problems into Bruce’s capable hands. On the other hand, Bruce being here means that Dick has failed. He told Bruce that he can handle the Court, but it turns out that he _can’t_. He _can’t_ handle the Court and now he has to tell Bruce how he has endangered the entire family. 

Cass nods, looking at Dick oddly. Dick remembers too late that Cass can read him like an open book and tries to keep his body as casual as he can. 

Alfred doesn’t notice. Or if he does, he doesn’t _show_ that he did. “He is here, Master Dick. Shall I fetch him?”

 _“Please_.”

Alfred adjusts Dick’s IV one more time and puts his hand on Dick’s leg. He gives Dick a short squeeze before walking away. 

Dick has given his family quite the scare then, if Alfred would do such a thing when everyone is awake. 

Once Alfred has left, Cass taps Dick’s nose, then signs, “ _Should I wake Tim?_ ”

 _“Not Damian?_ ” Dick teases. 

Cass scrunches her nose before tapping Dick’s nose again. Then, she raises her eyebrows, waiting for Dick’s decision. 

Dick looks at the black mop of hair that is all he could see of Tim. Neither he nor Damian gives a single indication of waking up during that entire conversation. Dick knows that if he can see Tim’s face, he would see the same exact bags underneath his eyes as the ones on Cass, Damian, and even Alfred. 

They must have been running themselves ragged trying to find him. 

Dick doesn’t want to disturb their much-needed rest, but he doesn’t want to have to do this conversation more than once. It’s bad enough that he has to do it at all. He promises to himself that he’ll make it up to his little brothers somehow, then signs, “ _I’ll wake Damian._ ”

Dick knows that Cass knows what he meant by that, because Cass climbs down from the cot at once and then gently shakes Tim. Dick does the same to Damian. 

It takes a couple of shakes before Damian gives a soft moan. He must have been absolutely exhausted. Dick shakes Damian again, all the while feeling terrible at disturbing his little brother’s rest. 

Before Dick can wake Damian up completely, however, Tim cries out, “You’re awake!” then tackles Dick. _That_ makes Damian’s eyes open. 

Dick taps Tim’s back a couple of times, reassuring him that he is fine, but Tim doesn’t let go. “You were gone, Dick. And then we found you unconscious inside the sewers. We were worried.”

“Loathe as I am to agree with Drake,” Damian says, tightening his hold on Dick’s arms, “you did have us worried.”

Dick wants to say something, but he can’t with both his arms pinned down, one by Damian’s increasingly tight hold and one by Tim’s hug. Cass finally takes pity on him, because after a while, Tim moves to let Dick move his arms again. 

“ _Sorry,_ ” Dick signs, as soon as his hand is free.

Damian clicks his tongue. “Don’t do that again, Grayson. You scared us.” Damian pauses, before he adds, in a voice so soft it’s clear it’s meant only for Dick’s ears, “You scared me.”

Dick smiles at him, but before he can do anything, a voice calls out, “Dick, it’s good to see you awake.”

Bruce’s deep voice is like a soothing balm to Dick. If Alfred’s reminds him of home and safety, Bruce’s voice _is_ home and safety. He doesn’t even realize that he’s still tensing for a fight until he hears Bruce’s voice and his entire body just melts down. 

Dick sits up and turns around to see Bruce, navigating around Damian, who is still clinging to his arm, and Tim, who is not, but is sitting so close to Dick that he may as well be. Bruce is in his Batman suit with the cowl down, so Dick can see the faint lines around his eyes that tell Dick, more than anything, how worried Bruce is. Dick feels his heart clenching with guilt, compounding the guilt he has felt earlier about his little siblings’ eye bags. 

Then, Dick remembers about how he let the Court pull down his cowl, and the guilt of making his family worry about him pales in comparison. 

The Court knows, now. They know about Batman, and from that, it’s not hard to know about Robin, Red Robin, and Black Bat.

He’s failed his family. 

Dick takes a deep breath, then, before he can talk himself out of it, he meets Bruce’s eyes and signs, “ _The Court knows who I am_.”

Dick doesn’t fool himself into thinking that Bruce hasn’t already known. He was laying in the sewer in the Batsuit with his cowl down, after all. 

Dick keeps his eyes on Bruce. No one makes a sound. 

Bruce doesn’t say anything, and Dick’s guilt grows. He wants Bruce to say something, _anything_. He wants to apologize, to beg Bruce to forgive him. He wants to turn the clock back and make it so that the Court never finds out who he is. 

Then, Bruce sighs, and says, “I know.”

That simple sentence breaks the dam. Dick slips his hand from Damian’s grip and starts signing as quickly as he can. “ _I’m sorry. I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t prepared enough. I underestimated the enemy and I came in unprepared. I-”_

Dick doesn’t realize Bruce is walking over to his bed until Bruce is already in front of him, touching his face. “It’s not your fault, Dick,” Bruce says, the words rumbling inside his chest. “In fact, _I’m_ sorry.”

Dick stops. What is Bruce apologizing for? It’s _Dick_ who lets the Court know, not him. 

Bruce must have known what Dick was thinking, because he says, “I should have made sure they were gone. I should have burned them to the ground. But I didn’t. I’m sorry.” Then, he strokes Dick’s face, before signing, _“I’m sorry_.”

Dick wants to protest. Bruce did the best he could, and his best had bought Dick fifteen years of life without worrying about the Court. A single person--because that’s what Bruce’s operation was all those years ago, a single person-- cannot be expected to eradicate the massive organization that is the Court of Owls, not even Batman. 

Dick should have known this. He was once part of the Court, after all. He knows how powerful the Court of Owls is, how resourceful they are. He should have kept looking, and not just believing that the Court is gone. It’s Dick’s own fault that he let himself be lulled into that false sense of security. 

But Bruce smothers all of Dick’s protests by pulling Dick into a hug. 

Even after all these years, a hug from Bruce can settle Dick like nothing else. Dick burrows deep into the embrace, like he was ten again and Batman can solve all his problems. 

Then Damian squawks, and Dick is reminded that _he’s_ Batman now. He has responsibilities, not least of all the boy that is currently protesting about being trapped between him and Bruce. He’s _Batman_ now. It’s time to solve his problems. 

Dick lets himself enjoy Bruce’s hug for another second, ignoring Damian’s protests, before he pulls himself back. Then, he looks at Bruce again, determined this time, and signs, “ _What are we doing about it?_ ”

“We’ve combed every single one of the Court’s known hideout, and more besides that, but we haven’t found any trace of them,” Tim says, in his ‘mission-voice’, a very different voice than the one he used before. “We’ve tried our collective massive webs of information, including Oracle’s and even Red Hood’s, but there’s not a word of information about them.”

“It’s like they don’t exist,” Cass says softly. 

Damian scoffs. “They most certainly exist. There’s that Talon in the middle of the Cave to prove it. We just-”

Dick’s heart drops. “ _Talon?_ In the middle of the Cave?”

Damian stops talking. Tim and Cass glance at each other, before glaring at Damian. 

“Um…” Tim eventually says. “Yeah. There’s a Talon in the middle of the Cave.” He gives Dick a smile so fake it’s made out of plastic. “Did we not mention that before?”

“It’s Cobb,” Bruce grunts, impatient with the dallying now that the information is out. “We found him in the sewers, the day after we found you. He was frozen.” Bruce pauses here, looking at Tim and Cass and Damian, before finally returning to Dick. “He was sent with a message.”

“ _What message?_ ” Dick signs. 

No one answers him. 

“ _What message?_ ”

Finally, Damian says, “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.” He moves, placing himself in front of Dick, and looks straight into Dick’s eyes. “Promise me.”

Dick sighs. “ _What’s the message?_ ”

“Promise me first, then I’ll tell you the message.”

Dick closes his eyes. The only thing he can think of that will make Damian do something like this is that the Court is asking for Dick’s return, in order to not leak their identities. That must be why they didn’t mention Cobb to him before. 

Dick wants to keep his eyes closed, but he knows he can’t. He has to convince Damian that he’s actually promising him this. He opens his eyes, and signs, “ _I promise_.”

It pains him to lie to Damian. The boy has been lied to enough. Dick has promised him, earlier on in their partnership, that he’ll never lie to him, but Dick will break that promise a thousand times if it means keeping Damian safe. 

Even if breaking that promise means breaking his heart. 

Even if it means breaking _Damian’s_ heart. 

This is Dick’s mess. And he’ll take care of it. But he has to know what the Court actually wanted from him. 

Damian nods, then, in a surprising turn of events, _Tim_ says, “They want you. In exchange for our safety.”

“ _You promised_ ,” Cass signs. 

“ _What do they actually say?_ ” The Court is, above all, hungry for power. Dick needs to know what the exact wording is.

“Why do you care?” Damian demands. “You’re not going, we’ve established that.”

Dick looks at Bruce. He can’t look at Damian any longer, knowing that he’s lying to his Robin. 

Bruce knows the necessity of lying to protect his family. He’s done it often enough. But he’s also the one who is going to fight the most to keep Dick safe. 

Dick makes a bet. It paid off. 

“We make you this offer, Gray Son of Gotham,” Bruce recites. “Take your place among us, and your family shall be spared. Refuse it, and face our wrath.”

Dick lets out a slow breath. Okay, he can work with that. 

But then he sees his little siblings all looking at each other, wearing the same expression of worry. So, Dick sets out to break the tension. “ _Of course you memorized it already,_ ” he signs. 

As he signs that, Dick can see all four of his family breathe a sigh of relief. Bruce grunts, then says, “It’s important to know your enemy.” He gives Damian a glance before continuing, “But Damian is right. You’re not going. Rest up, Dick. We’ll talk more when you’re healed.” 

And with that, Bruce walks away. 

“He’s been working non-stop since you went missing,” Tim whispers. “I thought you waking up is going to make him stop, but apparently not.”

“Father can take care of himself, Drake,” Damian huffs. 

Dick shakes his head. If Bruce has been working non-stop since Dick went missing, and Dick has been missing for over a week, that means that Bruce hasn’t taken a break in almost two weeks now. He’s been working on that party before Dick found out about the Court, and then on the Tokyo Batman after that. He has to deal with this. 

Dick swallows, then signs, “ _I’m not so sure about that, Damian_.”

“We’ll worry about him _later_ ,” Cass says, authority clear in her voice. “He can take care of himself, for now. Alfred will make him stop when he can’t anymore.”

That reminds Dick that he hasn’t seen Alfred since he went to get Bruce. “ _Where is Alfred?_ ” Dick signs. 

All three of his little siblings frown. They really do have a lot in common, but if Dick suggests that, he will have protests upon protests heaped upon him. 

Then, Damian says, “I will search for him.”

“ _He probably went up to get food,_ ” Cass signs. 

And at that, both Tim and Dick’s stomachs grumbled. Dick gives a huff of laughter, forcing himself to forget about both the message from the Court and Bruce’s concerning lack of sleep, and signs, “ _What time is it? Have you guys eaten?_ ”

***

Alfred did go up to get some food for Dick. Once he realizes that all of them are hungry--and after Dick manages to convince him that he is fine-- he lets all of them go up to the kitchen and cooks them a meal. 

After everyone has eaten to Alfred’s standards, Cass demands a movie night. Too much stress, she said. Dick doesn’t know whether the suggestion is really her own wish or if she is reading everyone’s intentions. 

Because Dick wants to have it. He desperately wants a night when everyone is safe and sound and relaxed before he leaves. He wants to have that memory in his mind as he, metaphorically, walks into the lion’s den. 

He’ll be walking into the owl’s nest instead.

It’s not _everyone_ , because Tim,Cass and Damian will be suspicious if Dick insisted on Bruce joining them after acquiescing to Cass before, and because he doesn’t have a valid reason to call everyone, Jason and Babs and Steph and his Titans and practically everyone else. Then they will definitely know.

So Dick contents himself with a night between him, three of his siblings, and Alfred, who walks in periodically, and piles alongside his siblings into the rec room, suggesting that they work through their ‘Movies Damian Must Watch’ list. 

Damian denies the existence of such a list, of course, but everyone knows about it. 

Dick's heart is heavy with the realization that he is never going to watch another movie with Damian. Or any of his siblings. Or any of his friends. The Court won't allow that.

He keeps a smile plastered on his face while they watch the movie. He can't let his siblings know what he's feeling, for that would lead to them knowing what he's planning. So Dick keeps up a smile even as his heart falls deeper and deeper underground with the weight of what he's going to do. 

One hour into Wall-E, everyone is asleep. Everyone but Dick, that is. 

Damian is curled up around Dick’s arm, again. He hasn’t let go of it, except for when Dick is eating, and even then he stayed close to Dick’s side. Cass is on Dick’s other side, wedged between him and Tim, who chooses the furthest position away from Damian, so he’s the only one not directly pressed against Dick, but his hand is still holding the hand that is not claimed by Damian, arm splayed all over Cass’ body. 

Dick takes a moment to watch each of them, bathed in red light from the movie. The way Damian’s face smooths out when he’s asleep, so different from the frown he usually wears when he’s awake. How Cass’ chest rises up and down slowly, breathing in time with Tim, content with having her siblings all around her. The soft snore coming from Tim, who rarely lets his guard down to sleep as peacefully as this anymore. 

Dick is going to miss them so much. 

Dick slowly pulls his hand out of Tim’s grip. Even in his sleep, Tim holds tighter to his hand, but eventually Dick manages to coax it out without waking him. He puts Tim’s hand around Cass, praying that she won’t wake up. 

Then, he maneuvers around Damian, switching their position so that Damian is the one next to Cass. After Damian is settled around his sister and Dick is sure that she is not waking up, he begins the task of freeing his other arm from Damian’s death-grip.

He tries not to think about the fact that he’s going to leave Damian. 

Dick works slowly, pulling Damian’s fingers one by one from his arm. Finally, Dick’s arm is free and Dick lets Damian go. He should leave now; he’s lucky enough that none of them wakes up while Dick is fumbling around, trying to free himself from their pile. 

He gets another look of them, sleeping peacefully to Wall-E’s soundtrack, curled up around each other, and his heart _aches_. He decides to push his luck. This is the last time he’s going to say goodbye to them after all. Dick is under no illusion that the Court is ever going to let him go again. 

Dick presses a soft kiss to Damian’s temple, hoping that the kiss conveys everything he wants to say to him. Not just his love and his pride, but also his regret that he has to leave him to keep him safe. Damian twitches underneath the kiss, and Dick lets go reluctantly, wishing that he can stay in that moment forever. 

Then, Dick takes a step towards Cass and sweeps feather-light fingers through her hair. He doesn’t dare do anything else, because she is going to wake up if he does. He looks at Cass, remembering when he taught her how to sign, the many spars they have together, the dance sessions that Cass insisted they have. He knows he will hurt her, but he doesn’t know how else to protect her other than by leaving. He hopes Cass can forgive him, someday. 

Lastly, Dick kisses Tim’s cheek. The little brother he taught how to ride a train, the little brother he taught how to give _and_ take hits, the little brother he taught how to _fly_. The little brother he’s failed so many times before. 

Tim has Bruce back, now. He has his friends back, Kon and Bart and even Steph. 

Tim has lost so many people in his life, but this time he has people all around him who cared. Dick’s loss isn’t going to break him. At least, he prays that it won’t. 

Distantly, Dick finds himself wishing that Jason is here, so that he can give him the hug that has been years in the coming. But he can’t call Jason, not without him stopping Dick, so Dick doesn’t. 

He wants to stay here, wants to not leave the little bubble of safety and comfort, but he knows he can’t. 

Dick takes a final look, then he goes to the door and walks out. 

***

Dick knows Bruce is out on patrol by now. Just because Batman is out of commission doesn’t mean that Batman is not patrolling the city. 

Bruce is going to be the Batman of Gotham again. 

Dick checks that Alfred is in his room, the week Dick spent missing seems to take its toll on Alfred as well. Then, he goes to the study and sets the clock to 10.10, knowing that this is the last time he will do this gesture he had grown up doing. 

Bruce set the code to enter the Batcave by the time his parents died. Will he do something like that to remember Dick?

Dick walks down the stairs to the Cave, memorizing it, all the while acutely aware that he will never see it again. 

When he reaches the Cave, however, he goes directly to the Talon situated, like Damian said, in the middle of the Cave. Dick looks at the frozen body of his great-grandfather and finds himself wanting to curse him. It was because of him that Dick is in this position in the first place. 

Dick doesn’t. He wasted enough time as it is. It’s time to get what he came here for, and leave. 

The message from the Court, the one that Bruce told him, doesn’t say anything about where and when Dick can find them. But Dick knows that the Court will give their hints, if not the location outright. They’re just hiding it. They know they’re sending their Talon to the Batman, after all. They wouldn’t want him to come crashing. 

Not the wrong Batman, anyway. 

Fortunately, Dick knows Cobb’s suit as well as he knows his own, and the Court has seen him use that to his advantage. If they want to give him information only Dick would know how to get, they will hide it there. 

A slip of paper, in the middle layer of Cobb’s armor. The Court even went the extra mile and wrote it in a code only Dick would understand. 

They probably made Cobb write it just before they froze him. 

_932 Mill Avenue, Diamond District._

Dick takes a breath, then calculates how he would get there. He can take a bike, but any bike from the Cave will be sure to have trackers. He has cash on him, having taken some from his wallet when he walks to the Cave, so he _can_ take public transportation, but that will let Babs find him. 

Before Dick can make a decision, however, he hears the Batmobile pull over in the Cave. 

Damn. He was hoping to leave undetected. 

He’s not going to run out, it’ll just give Bruce more incentive to chase him. Besides, he will not be able to do anything before Bruce gets out of the car. If he leaves while Bruce is still inside, he won’t have a chance at all. 

So Dick has to wait until Bruce is out of the car and put him down, quickly and silently, without Bruce suspecting anything. 

A tall order, even for Dick. 

Dick walks to the Batmobile. Bruce hasn’t suspected anything it seems, because he hasn’t used the car to block the exit to the Cave yet. 

Bruce gets out while pulling down his cowl. “You’re up,” he says, as he turns to remove the rest of his armor.

Dick nods. This is the time. Bruce is out of the car, but he hasn’t realized Dick’s intention yet. If he wants to strike, he has to do it now. 

_“Sorry_ ,” Dick signs, knowing that every inch of the Cave is covered with cameras and that Bruce will see it afterward. Then, before Bruce can do anything, Dick strikes his neck. 

A risky move. There’s lots of ways that that hit can go wrong, including killing the victim, but Dick hasn’t trained with the Court for two years and continued that with Batman for another fifteen for nothing. Bruce goes down. 

Dick runs out immediately. He doesn’t have much time. Bruce is going to wake up soon, and he needs to be out of their range by then. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see that scene with dick watching movies with his siblings? and him going out? that is the scene that spawns this entire fic. I wanted to write that scene so much i made a multichapter fic with plot for it. 
> 
> as usual, my abundant thanks to [ fori ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulaypp) for beta-ing this fic. where would i be without you???


	5. v

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aurora figured out my replying habits, so here's chapter 5 for you all! enjoy the family freaking out!

Bruce wakes up to an empty cave. Damn, damn, damn, damn. He should have had someone on Dick at all times. He should have known that Dick will go out anyway, no matter what he says. 

He should have burned the Court’s perch years ago. 

He can’t follow Dick; he doesn’t know in which direction Dick had gone. Dick must have figured something out, something Bruce had missed, because the message that Bruce did know doesn’t have any hints to a location or time. 

Bruce can feel himself going into crisis mode, ticking box after box off his list, trying to solve this. 

Bruce looks around the Cave, confirming that none of his children are there, and then goes up to the Manor to find them. He’s tempted to work this on his own, but he has tried that move again and again, and it never ended well. He _can_ learn from his mistakes. 

But what really drives him to go search for his children is that they deserve to know what’s going on. 

Because it’s _Dick_. 

So Bruce goes up to the Manor, checking room after room, before finally finding them in the rec room. As much as it pains him to wake them up, to tell them that Dick snuck out right under their noses, to tell them that Dick left to sacrifice himself, he does it. Because it’s Dick, and his children will eviscerate him if he didn’t. 

“Is he out of his mind?” Tim snarls, as soon as Bruce finishes speaking. “There’s no way the Court would keep that promise!”

Damian, on the other hand, goes silent, though Bruce can tell from his expression that he’s blaming himself for this. He wears the same expression as Dick does. Bruce knows how to handle Tim’s anger, but he doesn’t know how to handle Damian’s grief. Dick was always the one doing it. 

“Where’s Alfred?” Cass asks. “Have you told him?”

Bruce doesn’t say anything, though he knows that his children know exactly what he’s thinking. That is, he hasn’t told Alfred. 

“I will inform Pennyworth,” Damian says solemnly, already walking out. Bruce is suddenly struck by the realization that he knows next to nothing about his son. 

“How long ago was this? Is there something with him that we can track? How does Dick even _know_ where to go?” Tim asks, also clearly going into crisis mode. If Damian resembles Dick in his behaviour, Tim resembles Bruce. It’s amazing how closely Tim’s line of thought follows Bruce’s, and how closely Damian’s follows Dick’s. 

But then, Tim says something that is so fundamentally different than Bruce, it breaks Bruce’s musings.“Have you called everyone?” 

It’s incredible how similar Tim is to Bruce yet so different, because Bruce will never think about calling everyone the moment this situation is presented to him. He even has to _train_ himself to let his own children know, much less everyone else. 

Cass touches Bruce’s neck, on the exact same spot Dick hit him. Cass’ brow is furrowed as she says, “You were out for about a minute. He knows we’re going to track him, so nothing we can track.”

“But how does he know where to _go_?” Tim runs his hand through his hair, frustrated. “We’ve checked the Talon, and the note, hundreds of times. Nothing. There’s no clue whatsoever on the message about _where_ , either.”

“Dick knows the Talon,” Bruce finally says. “He’s the one who trained him.”

Both Tim and Cass fall silent at that. Dick doesn’t like to talk about his time with the Court, and Bruce follows his lead, so they didn’t know about that.

After a while, Tim says, forlornly, “So Dick might know something we don’t. That solves the how, at least.”

Cass nods. “Now we figure out where.”

***

Damian knocks on Alfred’s door. It’s strange to be knocking on an old, heavy, wooden door of the Manor instead of the sleek, modern door on the Penthouse, but at the same time, it’s not really that strange, because this is _Alfred’s_ door. Aside from Richard, Alfred might be the single person he actually trusts with his feelings in this Manor. 

“Pennyworth? Are you awake?” Damian asks. 

He half-wishes that Alfred is _not_ awake, because then, this whole nightmare of a situation wouldn’t be real. It’ll just be another nightmare, something to forget about when he wakes up to Richard’s face smiling at him. 

If this is just a nightmare, he’ll wake up _not_ knowing that it’s his carelessness that leads them all to this situation. 

How could he be so stupid? He shouldn’t have said anything to Richard in the first place. He shouldn’t have let his guard down and believed in Richard’s promise. 

Because of course a promise to him wouldn’t be enough to keep Richard from going out. Richard always veers towards self-sacrifice, and especially so when it comes to family. 

(Of course _Damian_ is not enough, despite all of Richard’s claims that he is.)

The door opens, revealing Alfred in pyjamas that is as immaculate as his usual white button-down and trousers. “Is there a problem, Master Damian?” Alfred says, observing Damian all the while. 

Damian feels naked before Alfred’s gaze. Whoever said that Father is the best at reading people must have never met Pennyworth, because Alfred can just take a single glance at you and deduce everything before you even say a word.

Alfred’s face crumples, and his shoulders sag. Damian very rarely sees Alfred acts his age, but he sees it now. “Oh,” Alfred says. “I see.”

“May I come in?” Damian mutters, unable to even say it properly. Mother wouldn’t have been pleased. She would have said that it won’t do to mope about something. He should be _doing_ something, should be suiting up right now, helping Father and Drake and Cain to find Richard, instead of running to Pennyworth to be comforted, but he knows that no matter how hard they look, they wouldn’t find Richard tonight. He is better than that. 

So, as selfish as it seems, and as far from Mother’s teaching as it is, Damian _can_ take a few moments to himself first. Richard taught him that. 

Damian wishes that Richard wasn’t such a good teacher, because he was the one who taught Damian how to trust, and it’s that trust that led them here now, with Richard missing, most likely going back to the Court of Owls to _save_ them. 

Damian doesn't want to be saved if the cost is Richard's life.

Alfred's voice breaks Damian's thoughts. “Of course, dear boy," he says, opening the door further and letting Damian in. 

The layout of Alfred’s room here at the Manor is not different from his room at the Penthouse. A bed, two nightstands on either side of the bed, a lamp, an alarm clock, several pictures, and a telephone. The telephone is a landline, because this is Pennyworth. Damian stands next to the bed, looking at the framed pictures that lined Alfred’s nightstands. His eyes lock on a picture of a younger Alfred and an even younger Richard. They were smiling. 

Damian misses Alfred closing the door, and looks up in shock when Alfred touches his shoulder. “Do you want to sit, Master Damian?” Alfred asks, steering him towards the bed. It’s more manners in Alfred's part than an actual question, because Alfred doesn’t wait for an answer and simply puts Damian on his bed. 

Damian opens his mouth, closes it again, and then, finally, opens it to say, “He promised me.”

Alfred doesn’t say anything, but that only makes the words fall out of Damian’s mouth even faster. 

“He promised me he wouldn’t go. And now he’s gone. He promised me, Pennyworth.”

Alfred sits next to Damian and squeezes his shoulder. “Master Dick is always… protective of his family, Master Damian.”

“But he promised,” Damian whispers. He is very much aware of how much of a _child_ he’s sounding like right now, but he finds he doesn’t care. “He… He never breaks any promises to me before.”

“And I am sure he doesn’t want to, this time.” Alfred’s voice is heavy with grief. It reminds Damian of how selfish he is, asking for reassurance when this is _his_ fault, taking Alfred’s time when he should be helping the efforts to locate Richard instead. But Richard taught him that it is encouraged to ask for help when he needs it, and Richard can’t be wrong, can he? 

Except maybe he can, because he _didn’t_ ask for help this time. 

Alfred continues, “But if the choice is between his safety and his family’s…”

Damian closes his eyes. He knows. He knows that Dick would always choose his family over himself. He just wishes that Dick can see how much he is worth to the family. 

To Damian. 

“May I stay here for a few more moments, Pennyworth?”

“Of course, dear boy.” Alfred doesn’t hug Damian, he doesn’t even repeat his touch on Damian’s shoulder, but Damian is strangely glad for that. 

Only Dick has ever been tactile with him, and if Alfred starts to do that, it would mean that they are giving up on Dick already. Damian doesn’t want that.

However, Alfred stays with him, in the room that is strange but still familiar, and for now, that is more than enough. 

***

“He did _what?_ ” Barbara snaps. 

“He went out,” Cass says. 

Barbara hisses, aware of how horrible that sound is when filtered through her voice modulator, but it’s four a.m. in the morning and she was woken up from the first sleep she has in fifty-five hours with news that Dick _freaking_ Grayson voluntarily went out to the Court of Owls, so she doesn’t particularly care. 

“I am going to _kill_ him later. Are you tracking him?”

“We’re doing that. Tim and Bruce are looking at traffic cameras.” Cass grimaces. “But it’s _Dick_.”

Babs rubs her eyes and sighs. “Yeah, I know. I’ll get something running in a while, but don’t put too much hope on it. How did he know where to go, anyway?”

“B thinks Dick found something we don’t. From the Talon. Cave footage shows Dick going through the Talon’s uniform before he left.”

A thought emerges. “Hmmm. Give me a minute, can you, Cass?”

Babs doesn’t wait for Cass’ confirmation and starts typing in the codes to override the Batcomputer. Using the Cave as her base with Steph all those months ago was an _amazing_ idea, if only because it gave Babs the access she needs right now. 

“Okay,” Babs says, “can you pull up the scanner over there? And sweep the Talon again?”

Cass doesn’t even look surprised that she has an all-inclusive access to the Batcomputer. She knows what Babs can do. She just takes the scanner and sweeps the Talon again, because Cassandra knows better than to ignore Babs’ command. 

Something pings on her computer. “Slower, Cass,” she says, as she types in more code to identify what pinged her. “Where’s the scanner now?”

“His hands.”

“Something must be inside his gauntlet.” 

Cass hums. “I don’t think Dick took something from the gauntlet. It looks higher.”

“We’ll check higher later,” Babs says, because her computer is now showing very _interesting_ readings. “Can you hold the scanner there?”

Babs goes to work on cracking the security on this thing. Firewalls after firewalls are being thrown in Babs’ way, but she’s the freaking Oracle. These firewalls are child’s play to her. It just annoys her that there’s so much of them. 

She expected dozens of things to show up once she cracked the firewalls, but that is not the case. “There’s nothing here.” Babs frowns. “Why would they put so many firewalls just to guard nothing?”

“Nothing?” Cass asks.

“Nothing.” Babs clicks around a few times, just in case she misses something, but nothing pops out again. She bites her lips, annoyed at this turn of events. Finally, she says, “I’ll keep watching this, but you were talking about higher?”

Cass nods. Babs gives the okay to move on with the scanner and they work on. 

“It might be paper,” Cass says, after a while of no results. “The note we know is paper.”

Babs sighs again. “You’re right. The Court is smart enough to guard against cyber attacks. But if it’s paper, then we have nothing, Cass.”

Cass bites her lips. The two of them both know that it most likely is a paper note, but neither wants to say it. If they say it, it means admitting that they have no idea where Dick is right now, and no way to acquire that knowledge. 

So they say nothing, and they work on. 

***

“Oracle couldn’t find anything, B,” Tim calls out from the changing room while getting into his suit. “Whatever it is that Dick found from the Talon, it left no digital trace.”

Bruce grunts, not looking away from the traffic camera feeds he’s currently sweeping. Tim doesn’t expect anything else, really. 

“I called Kate and Steph to help us canvas the city. Kate is still out of Gotham, but she’ll be here to help by tonight. Steph already said yes and is suiting up as we speak. Cass is finishing their check on the Talon. Damian is… actually I don’t know where Damian is.”

“He’s with Alfred,” Bruce says, _still_ not looking up from his camera feeds. 

“Okay.” Tim snaps on his gauntlets. Here comes the time he’s been dreading. Tim has to convince Bruce to stay behind and _sleep_ , at least for a while. He has talked to Cass and Babs while they were doing their check on the Talon, and all of them agreed that under no circumstances can Bruce be allowed to leave the Cave without having slept. 

Bruce is on hour ninety-three without sleep, and probably hasn’t slept for more than two hours at a time for at least a week before that. Even Batman has his limits. 

Tim tries to look and act nonchalant, hoping to let Bruce think that staying behind is his own idea. If he doesn’t leave the Cave, Alfred will come and make him sleep. So really, Tim’s job is not the impossible task of making a stressed out, panicked Bruce sleep, but just the slightly less impossible task of keeping Bruce in the Cave while Dick is missing. 

Not impossible. But very nearly so. 

“I’m thinking that Robin can go with Batgirl. She’s the only one who can handle Damian with his claws out. They can handle Crime Alley and the Bowery, and then move on to the Narrows.” A place where normally they wouldn’t send Damian, because even _Robin_ is in danger in Crime Alley, but right now, with their enemy being the Court, Crime Alley is at the very bottom of the list of possible places. So, ironically, it’s the _safest_ place for Damian to be in right now. “I’ll take Chinatown and Old Gotham, while Cass is going to go to City Hall and Fashion District. Then we’ll regroup and look in other places.”

Bruce grunts again, eyes still fixed on the screen, and he says, “I’ll take East End and Little Italy.”

Oh no. Here comes the part that Tim dreads the most. Honestly, Tim knows how Bruce feels. If they tried to bench _Tim_ , he probably would have gone out anyway. And Bruce _will_ sneak out, because whatever fear and dread that has lodged inside Tim’s chest the moment he knows that Dick is gone will absolutely be multiplied a thousand times inside Bruce. 

They were just hoping that they could get Bruce to sleep for at least a few hours before he goes out again. 

“You’re not going,” Tim says, hoping to project calm and confidence. 

_That_ got Bruce to look up from his screen. Honestly, Tim should try arguing with Bruce more. It certainly got Bruce to notice him.

“What do you mean I’m not going?” Bruce growls. 

“I mean that you haven’t slept in nearly a week.” Tim raises his eyebrows. “I know you’re stressed, we all are, but at least we’ve all had some time to sleep. You haven’t. Take a couple hours to nap, and then you can go out.”

Bruce grunts in a way that clearly signals his displeasure. 

Tim doesn’t want to do this. He really doesn’t. But he says, “You’re no use to Dick like this.” 

Silence. Bruce glares at him. Tim returns it right back. He had _experience_ with this, unfortunately. The only way to make Bruce listen is to outstubborn probably the most stubborn man alive. 

“Take a nap. You know your performance dwindles after forty-eight hours of no sleep.” Tim knows very well that he’s being a hypocrite about this, but like _hell_ he’s going to say anything about it if Bruce doesn’t. He learned the art of not going to bed from Bruce, after all. “You’re going on ninety-three, almost ninety-four hours straight.”

 _Shockingly_ , it worked. Tim’s little rant worked. Bruce grunts again, but this time of acquiesce, and starts removing his armor. Tim’s heart did a little jump of joy at the thought of Bruce actually listening to what he said. 

“Call if you need any help,” Bruce says, standing in his under armour at the bottom of the Cave’s stairs. “My comms will be on.”

“Yes, Bruce. Go to sleep. I’ll call you in a couple of hours,” Tim says, and then turns towards the screen himself. There’s no sense in watching Bruce watch him. He will be more likely to go to bed if he thinks Tim is confident in this. 

After Bruce has left, Tim allows himself a sigh. The map of Gotham flickers in front of him, taunting him with the fact that _none_ of them has any idea where Dick is. 

Tim grits his teeth and puts on his cowl. It’s time to get to work. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so overwhelmed by people who are commenting and reading and basically just following this story! I love you all! and of course, thank you for [ Fori ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulaypp) who probably have read this fic more than I have... I love you so much. 
> 
> and as always, kudos and comments are absolutely appreciated! They make me smile in the middle of the hellscape that is this world....


	6. vi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again! class is in full swing, so i am... absolutely tired....
> 
> but this chapter is still going on! here we go! we're seeing what Dick is doing throughout it all!

Dick has been driving for hours. He knows he doesn’t have any tracker on him: his clothes are clean and he’s changed vehicles four times to keep his family off his tail. He has avoided cameras and ditched his phone along the way. He has taken increasingly convoluted routes and has enough of a headstart that none of his family can actually catch up with him. However, this is _his family_. His overtrained, overfocused, overcapable family. If there’s a way to find him, they will, and so Dick has to take every precaution necessary to stop them from doing so. 

The whole point of this was to keep his family safe from the Court, not bring them _to_ the Court’s doorstep. 

Dick reads the note again. 932 Mill Avenue, Diamond District. He knows where it is, he knows how to get there, and he’s reasonably sure that none of his family knows where he is or where he is going. He’s done all he could. It’s time for him to walk into the owl’s nest. 

Dick turns, driving as slowly as he can without anyone honking at him. This is the last chance he has of seeing Gotham, the city he has bled for countless times, without the Court pulling his strings. This is the last chance he has of doing _anything_ without the Court’s influence. He’s going to savor it as best he can. 

Clinton Avenue. Three more streets. 

Pumpkin Hill Avenue. 

Homestead Avenue. 

800 Mill Avenue. 850 Mill Avenue. 900 Mill Avenue. 901, 902, and on and on until Dick finally reaches 932 Mill Avenue. 

Dick stops in front of the building. It’s deceptively ordinary. Dick parks the car, not bothering to put the double lock. There’s no point. He’s not going to see this car again and he’s made sure that the person he stole this car from will be aptly compensated. A few days from now, of course. 

Might as well make life easier for the poor schmuck that’ll steal it. This is not _Crime Alley_ , where vehicles left unattended in streets are guaranteed to get stolen within half an hour, but this is still Gotham. Even in Diamond District, someone will steal this car eventually. 

Dick gets out of the car and walks to the entrance of the building. 932 Mill Avenue. 

Dick opens the door and walks in. 

***

The room is beautiful the way rich people paid others to make it beautiful. Dick knows at once that this is the room he has to go into. 

The moment he steps into the room, the Grandmaster says, “Ah! Welcome, Gray Son.” His golden mask glints underneath the light. “I see you’ve made the right choice.”

There are other Owls in attendance, sitting in a mockery of a court around the Grandmaster. Dick ignores all of them. He even ignores his cursory sweep of every room he goes into. There’s no point in doing that. 

_He_ is not leaving this room, one way or another. 

Dick walks past mask after mask, each of them following his every move, until he reaches the golden mask of the Grandmaster. The same mask that taunts him in the Labyrinth. The same mask that looks over his training years and years ago and determines his fate. 

The same mask that haunts his nightmares. 

Dick has spent fifteen years learning to let go of the man behind this mask, and now, he’s going to willingly submit back to his control.

Every muscle in Dick’s body is screaming at him to leave. His lungs protest against breathing the same air as that man. His beating heart betrays his calm expression on how truly afraid he is of this man. 

However, Dick is not going to leave, despite everything inside him telling him to. He’s not. He’s come too far for him to go back. The image of his family being the playthings of the Court, just like he was years ago, is enough to make him move closer towards the Grandmaster. 

The Grandmaster tilts his head, in an eerily similar move to an owl. Even without seeing his face, Dick knows that he’s waiting for Dick to simply walk up to him, kneel at his feet, and offer him his life. Accept his life as a Talon of the Court.

The thought leaves a sour taste in Dick’s mouth. He knows he’s going to have to do it eventually, but... One last act of defiance before he throws his life away. 

Dick raises his head and looks at the Grandmaster in the eye. Or at least, where his eyes would be underneath that mask. 

Dick knows what that means. The Grandmaster also knows what it means. Dick is challenging him, telling him that he has only won because of the threat to Dick’s family. 

The Grandmaster only meets Dick’s gaze calmly, unperturbed. He’s certain that he has won. Dick is not sure that he can contest that.

They stared.

A second passed. Two.

Then Dick lowers his eyes, breathes out, and kneels at the Grandmaster’s feet. 

The Grandmaster puts his hands on Dick’s hair, stroking it gently. A mockery of a father welcoming back a repentant errant son. 

“Welcome back, Gray Son. I trust you’re here to stay?”

The Grandmaster waits. The Grandmaster must be obeyed, and the Grandmaster must be answered. 

Dick swallows thickly, mind spewing apologies after apologies to Bruce, to Alfred, to Damian, Barbara, Tim, Cass, StephJasonDonnaRoyWallyGarthKory…

Talon breathes in, opens his mouth, and says, “Yes, Grandmaster.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not ending it there, i promise XD


	7. vii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steph is here! and with a vengeance!
> 
> (i told you I'm not ending it there. but I'm not sure it's better, tbh XD)

Tim is marking the places they’ve gone through on the map, trying to look for more places to search, all the while feeling a weird combination of anxiety, fear, exhaustion, and deja-vu --because didn’t they _just_ do this a few days ago?--, when the Cave’s speakers blare out, “Shit.”

Tim immediately looks over. “What is it, Babs?”

Furious typing, because both the mic on the Kord Tower and the speaker on the Cave is immaculate, and then Babs says, “You know how Cass found a chip on the Talon’s gauntlet? Well, something just came up.”

Tim grits his teeth and braces for horrible news. Babs doesn’t sound like that for something good. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“It’s super bad, Tim. It’s a list of targets.” The typing sounds stops, and Babs breathes out, like even she couldn’t believe what she’s seeing, “They’re going to kill thirty-eight people tonight.”

Tim’s mind immediately goes into overload. The Cave’s computer pings and Tim drags his cursor there, opening a list of names of _every_ influential person in Gotham. “Mayor Hardy, Commissioner Gordon, Councilman Davis…” Tim scrolls through the list and breathes out, “Damn.”

“Yeah.”

They don’t speak for a moment, too thunderstruck by the sheer magnitude of the threat before them. But something else also passes between them, unspoken. This will be priority number one. All of them are going to handle this first. 

Which means that they are abandoning Dick. 

Tim looks up, catches Babs’ eyes, and stays there. He doesn’t want to say it. He knows it makes him a coward, but he _really_ doesn’t want to say it. 

Thankfully, Babs understands, and she’s stronger than he is. She nods tightly at him and says, “Our mission just changed. We’re handling this first. Call Bruce and tell him about this.”

Tim doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he lets it out after Babs finished saying that. He can feel his emotions rumbling through his brain, but he decides to put them away, tuck it in a separate box for later perusal, and puts the mission first. 

“Damian’s going to be pissed,” Tim says, in the attempt to distract himself from his own feelings.

“He can be pissed later.” Babs sighs. Tim knows she hates doing this as much as he does, but they both have been trained too well to put their own needs over others. Even if their need is to save Dick. “Dick’s going to have to wait,” Babs says, once more voicing what Tim couldn’t. “He can take care of himself.”

Tim grimaces. 

“He can take care of himself,” Babs says again, like she’s reassuring herself just as much as she’s reassuring Tim. Tim hopes it worked better for her, because it didn’t work for him at all. 

Tim bites his tongue, once, just to bring himself back to the present, and says, “Okay. I’ll call Bruce. What about everyone else?”

“The birds are finishing up their op. Batwoman is already en route to Gotham. They should be here soon.” Babs pauses, before she continues, “I’m calling Hood. We need all hands on deck. ”

Tim frowns, thinking of all the ways things could go wrong, but in the end, he agrees with Babs. They do need all hands on deck, and Hood, for all Tim’s issues with him, won’t ignore a call for help from Oracle. 

He might bitch and argue, but the Red Hood has been helping the Bats more often than not these days. He’ll help, especially for something like this.

“Do you need me to do anything?” Tim asks. 

“Get Bruce here,” Babs says, “and then, can you call Steph? Jason is going to do his little bullshit posturing before he’ll listen to anything I say. I want to get everyone here as soon as we can.”

Tim nods and starts hailing Bruce’s comms, all while memorizing the names on the list. He swears to himself. He knows that tonight is going to be a long night, with everyone on edge because Dick is gone. He just didn’t expect it’s going to be _this_ long. 

***

Steph wakes because her comms is buzzing. She groans. Already? She’d _just_ gone to sleep. 

When she came back home, she was planning on getting an hour, maybe two hours of sleep before going back out. She wants to find Dick as much as anyone else, but she’d been out for close to ten hours now. Canvassing Gotham is exhausting. 

But the instinct to answer buzzing comms is drilled too deep into her. She blames Babs, because she was _not_ like this as Spoiler. 

She answers it. 

“Yeah?” Steph mumbles out, still drowsy with sleep. 

“Hi, Steph,” Tim answers. “Did I wake you?”

“I was just-” Steph yawns, “-getting back up.” She looks at the clock in her bedroom. God, she’s only been asleep for forty minutes. “Is there-” she yawns again, “-something wrong?”

“We need you to go to Babs’ tower for a briefing,” Tim says with an apologetic tone. “We have a situation.”

Steph blinks. Once, then twice. A situation? 

“What situation, Tim?”

“Um....” Oh no. It has to be bad news. Tim only ever stumbles when it’s _horrible_ news. “O found an assasination list.”

Whatever sleep was still inside Steph’s body dries out. “An _assassination list?_ ” she screeches out. “Timothy. Please tell me you are joking.”

“Not joking, Steph. O’s going to tell you everything. Just get there ASAP.” 

Okay. Okay, she can do this. Just, get her feet out of bed, then lift her butt. Come on, Steph, you can do this. You’re Batgirl. 

She lifts her costume from the floor around her bed and groans. Steph loves her costume, she really does, but after _ten hours_ _straight_ , it looks as unappealing as vomit in a garbage can. 

“Steph?” Tim says. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, Ex-Boyfriend Wonder. I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, Tim.” Steph pulls on the costume. It still reeks of sweat. “I’m sure.”

A few beats of silence, before Tim speaks up, “Okay then. I’ll see you in a while, I guess,” and hangs up, before Steph can reply. 

Jerkass. 

Steph writes a note to her mom and then pulls on her cowl. It’s good that her mom already knows who she is, or at least, ‘knows’, because she really can’t think of any excuse that she’s going out again after being out since dawn. She just writes ‘I’m going out! Don’t wait up!’, pins the note on the fridge, and climbs out of the window. 

She stretches a bit and then fires her grapple. She needs to get to Kord Tower, ASAP. 

***

Once at the Tower, Steph is greeted with the sight of the entire roster of the Birds, Manhunter, Red Hood, and Batwoman. She can see Batman, Red Robin, Black Bat, and Catwoman from the feed on Babs’ enormous screen. 

_Shit_. They’re calling _everyone_. What the hell is going on?

Babs sees her first and greets her by saying, “Right, Batgirl. Come on. We need to get started.”

Great. She’s the last one here. 

Steph slips in and gets comfortable in one of the corners of Babs’ control room. There’s a giant color-coded map of Gotham with dozens of little dots on them next to the feed from the cave. 

And then Steph remembers. Assassination list. Are these the targets?

“Okay everyone. Thanks for being here. Let’s get started,” Babs says. “Everyone knows about the Court of Owls?” 

Wait. Court of Owls. Assassination list. 

Fucking fuckstick smear. 

No one says a negative, so Babs goes on, “Black Bat and I found a chip on the gauntlet of the Talon currently in the Cave. Around forty minutes ago, a list of names appeared on it. We think that the Court is planning to assassinate these people. I already send the names and their location to each of you.”

Damn it. Steph hates it when she’s right.

“Our objective tonight is to keep these people safe,” Babs continues, “but unfortunately, we can’t do that unless we fight these Talons. To all of you who don’t know, Talons have extreme regenerative properties and can heal even the most lethal of wounds, sometimes even reviving themselves.

“Each target will probably have one Talon assigned to them, so in total, we’ll be facing at least thirty-eight Talons tonight. They’re already dead,” -wait what?- “so for them, and for them only,” Babs looks at Hood and then Huntress, “the no-killing rule doesn’t apply. They can’t regenerate in extreme cold and as far as we know, the only injury that will stick without the application of cold is decapitation.

“We’ll split into six teams. Four to protect the targets and two teams to keep the Talons from regenerating. We have several freeze guns from our encounters with Mr. Freeze, but there’s not enough for all of us, so only the second teams will be carrying them.

“You have your assignments on each of your wrist computers. Take a look at them and then say something if you have any questions.”

“Um,” Misfit says as soon as Babs finishes, “where’s the other Batman?” 

Steph sees Babs biting her lips. She knows why Dick isn’t here, but she’s not going to be the one to say it. Does Misfit even know who Batman is? 

“He is currently… unavailable,” Babs finally says. “We’re going to have to continue without him. Is there any other question about the mission?”

Steph snaps out of her reverie and presses her wrist computer to see her assignment. It says she’s on protection duty in Lower Gotham with Robin. 

Oh no. 

_Oh no._

Damian is going to be insufferable. This morning proves that. 

She knows that Damian is behaving like he is because he’s worried about Dick, and that he expresses it with his bad attitude. 

She almost wants to ask why they paired Damian with her before she realizes that the fact that she knows what Damian means with his attitude makes her the most qualified one to handle him. 

Damn it. 

“One question, Babs,” Black Canary says. “Are we just going to… drag people out of their homes? What about their family?”

“I’ve coordinated with the GCPD,” Babs answers. “They’re going to tell people about the threat, and are staying with them until we can take them into one of the safe houses. Then they’re going to stay with the families. The Talons should only target the people on this list and not go after their families, but it won't hurt to be cautious.”

Everyone nods, processing that information, before another voice calls out.

“Oracle,” Hood says, “why am I with him?” he jerks his head towards the screen. Oh yeah. He still has that beef with Bruce, hasn’t he?

Babs clicks her tongue, impatient. “You’re with him because both of you are heavy hitters. Can you just… declare truce for one night, Hood? Please?”

The Red Hood tilts his head but doesn’t say anything else, and thank god for that, because from the boys’ stories, when the Red Hood starts arguing, he _starts arguing_. 

Babs pinches the bridge of her nose. “Anything else?” she asks. 

A few mumbles of no, including Steph’s. 

“We don’t know when the Talons are going to start attacking, so we’re doing this as fast as we can,” Babs says. “Go to your stations and,” she sighs, “good luck.”

Good luck indeed. Steph catches Misfit’s eyes and grimaces.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you, as always, for reading and following and commenting and subscribing and..... I love and cherish every single one of them!
> 
> and where would I be without my wonderful beta, [ Fori ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulaypp). She made this what this is, and it wouldn't be half as good without her!


	8. viii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for guns and gunshots
> 
> let's hear it for jason! finally there's a scene with him that's not just a blink and you'll miss it!

Alfred is, once again, sitting in front of the Batcomputer with an empty Cave behind him. It is not something he enjoys doing, because when he does it, it implies that everything has gone to hell. It is rare for him to be sitting in front of the Batcomputer without everything being absolutely screwed. 

But here he is, once again, at the Batcomputer. And of course, once again, everything has gone to absolute shit.

Alfred rarely swears, even in the confines of his own mind, but he finds that he is justified this time. Everything has been out of sorts this week. The Court of Owls is back. Dick is gone and is probably with them. And now, they have ordered thirty-eight assassinations in one night. 

Absolute shit. 

He looks at the screen and sees everyone in their position already. His charges, _his son and his son’s children_ , risking their lives to save others. 

Taking on the Court of Owls. 

He is so proud of them, but at the same time, he is terrified that one day, they would stop coming back. 

“Hood to Cave,” the speaker calls out. Alfred is happy that Master Jason is finally working together with Master Bruce, but he can’t help but wish that it is because of better circumstances. “The Knights is ready.”

Alfred presses the button to activate the mic and says, “Acknowledged, Red Hood.”

“Batgirl to Cave,” the speaker says again. “We’re ready.”

“Copy that, Batgirl.”

“Red Robin to Cave,” Master Tim calls in. “Huntress and I are ready.”

Alfred breathes out. This is it. He doesn’t want this life for his family, where they risk their lives and _bleed_ for this city, but this is the life they choose to lead. So he asks, “Oracle, the rest of your operatives?”

“Ready to go, Penny-One.”

“Batman?”

Master Bruce grunts. Alfred has lost count of the times he wanted to smack some sense into that boy and _make_ him use his words, but this time, the grunt is apt. There is truly nothing left to say. 

His son and his son’s children are going to war, with one of them already on the enemy’s hand, and here Alfred is, sitting in front of the Batcomputer. 

“Alright, then,” he says. “Godspeed, sirs and madams.” Alfred presses the signal that will inform the GCPD to start bringing the targets to their respective safe locations. Master Damian and Miss Stephanie are handling one location on Lower Gotham, Master Tim and Miss Bertinelli are guarding one location in the Narrows, and Miss Spencer and some of Miss Barbara’s operatives are handling two locations in East End and City Hall respectively. 

That prospect already makes Alfred anxious, but it pales to what Master Jason, Master Bruce, and Miss Cassandra are doing. They are part of the cavalry, along with Miss Kane, Miss Lance, and Miss Kyle. Their task? To receive the Talons that the guardians direct their way and stop them, one way or another. 

Two cavalries, one in Robinson Park and one in Knights Stadium. Four safe locations. Fourteen operatives. 

Thirty-eight Talons. 

His charges have faced worse odds than this. They won then. He has to believe that they will win again. 

Alfred watches as the first few targets are brought in quickly and without incident. Miss Barbara is truly marvelous at her work. But even as he watches, Alfred knows that this serenity will not last. Sooner or later, the enemy will come. 

And the plan never survives first contact with the enemy. 

It happens sooner, because of course it does. A Talon emerges on Miss Spencer’s way to collect her target. 

Miss Cassandra swoops in to handle it. 

Another one emerges. Master Jason takes care of it. 

Before long, each one of them is fighting Talons. 

Miss Kane. 

Master Bruce. 

Miss Lance. 

Master Timothy pitches in, helping to distract some of the Talons on the way to retrieve another target. 

Miss Kyle.

Mister Hall goes in for a while, before returning to his post. 

Again, and again, and again, until eventually all that Alfred can see is fighting and fighting and fighting. Alfred watches the screen avidly, helping Miss Barbara coordinate with the GCPD. 

Throughout it all, Alfred cannot help but notice the glaringly obvious absence of Master Richard. Where is he? Has he really gone back to the Court? How is he?

Alfred remembers nights filled with choked screams and days filled with held breaths. He remembers the boy Master Bruce brought home, and he sees the man that that boy has become. He remembers how that man willingly goes back to his nightmares, just to save his family, just to save _him._ Alfred feels his calm facade, one he wears as he sees his family fighting a war, chinking away. 

No. The mission first, as always. It is not a policy that Alfred condones often, but now, with the dozens of lives on the line, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the effectiveness of that policy. 

Two more targets before all of them are in secure locations. Mister Guadalupe and Miss Venderman. 

Just two more. They are each barely a kilometer off of their respective secure locations. Two more. 

Just how many Talons does the Court possess? They come in seemingly endless supply. A treacherous voice inside Alfred says that Master Dick is most likely in the process of becoming another one of these Talons. He stamps it down.

Mister Guadalupe is safe, or as safe as they can have him be.

Miss Venderman, on the other hand…

Alfred can listen in on Miss Barbara’s conversations, but he cannot directly say anything to her operatives. Too many cooks spoil the broth, after all. But that policy turns against them, because when he sees the Talon behind Miss Bertinelli, it is already too late. 

He tries anyway. “Oracle! Huntress is in danger!”

“Down, Helena! Down!” Miss Barbara shouts into her own mic, but as Alfred already knows, it is too late. The sword has reached Miss Bertinelli. 

“Anyone free, Huntress needs help!”

A bang, and Master Jason says, “On it, O.”

“No, Hood! You’re not supposed to leave your post! You can't leave Black Bat alone!”

“Anyone else free?” Master Jason grits out. It’s amazing how much the helmet does _not_ disguise anything in his voice. 

Or maybe it is just because Alfred knows him too well to read him even through the helmet. 

On the screen, Alfred sees Miss Bertinelli retaliate with her bow. The Talon simply shrugs it off. 

“No,” Miss Barbara spits out. 

“Black Bat can handle being alone for a while." From the edge of his eye, Alfred sees the feed from Miss Cassandra's mask moving up and down. Master Jason continues, "I’m going to Huntress. Location, Oracle?”

Miss Barbara rattles off the address, voice distracted with a thousand other things happening. Meanwhile, Alfred sees Miss Bertinelli dodging another attack from the Talon. 

“Aim for the head, Helena!” Miss Barbara cries out. 

“I’m trying!” comes the reply.

Miss Barbara lets out the most uncouth swears, but Alfred cannot find himself to mind. Profanities have their time and place, and this is definitely one of them. 

“Help is coming, Huntress. Just… take cover until Hood comes.”

“Can’t do that, Oracle,” Miss Bertinelli says while slamming one of her arrows into the Talon’s shoulders. “Valerie is still here.”

Miss Barbara swears again. “Get her out!” she shouts. “Your job is to _get her out_. Let Hood handle the Talon!”

“Again, O,” Miss Bertinelli snaps, “I’m trying!”

Alfred sees Miss Bertinelli, with great force, might he add, throw an arrow to the Talon’s neck. The Talon simply pulls it out of her neck and drops it to the floor. 

“O,” Miss Bertinelli says again, breathless, “how far is Hood?”

Miss Barbara apparently already connected Master Jason’s comms with Miss Bertinelli, because he says, “Thirty seconds, Huntress.”

Miss Bertinelli curses. Thirty seconds might prove to be too late for her. 

Fortunately, it appears that Miss Venderman is a courageous woman. And that she has an extremely sturdy metal vase in her reach. She takes it and slams it on the Talon’s head. 

Alred sees Miss Bertinelli look at Miss Venderman in shock. Miss Barbara, however, has no such shock. “Get out of there now, Huntress!” she shouts. “The Talon is going to get up any second!”

That brought Miss Bertinelli out of her reverie. “Are you alright, Miss Venderman?” she asks. 

But before Miss Venderman can say anything, the Talon rises back up. 

Thankfully, then, a bang rings out. A bullet flies straight to the Talon’s forehead. 

Master Jason has arrived. 

Alfred breathes a sigh of relief. Miss Bertinelli may not be his charge, but still, he does not wish for her death. 

“Out, Huntress!” Miss Barbara shouts. “Hood, do you not have your freeze guns?”

“Already halfway out, O,” Master Jason says as he ushers Miss Bertinelli and Miss Venderman out. “Don’t want to waste it for just one Talon.”

Miss Barbara curses again. “Okay, okay. Is Venderman out, Huntress?”

“Out and ready to go, O,” Miss Bertinelli replies. 

“Good. Okay. Hood, I need you to-”

Miss Barbara’s words are drowned out by the proximity alarm for the Manor. Alfred switches to the feed for the Manor’s cameras immediately, only to see multiple Talons trying to get into Wayne Manor’s grounds. 

He lets out a curse of his own. 

“Penny-One?” Master Damian says. Damn it, he forgets that his mic is still on. “Is there something wrong?”

Alfred curses again, mentally this time. He doesn’t want to alarm his youngest charge, not when he is already dishevelled with Master Dick’s disappearance. 

But he has no choice, has he? He prides himself on being a good fighter, good enough to provide support to the various vigilantes of Gotham, but even he, with all the armory at the Cave and the Manor above, cannot fight this many Talons by himself. 

“I don’t mean to alarm you, sirs and madams,” he eventually says, “but I’m afraid to say, the Manor has been infiltrated by Talons.”

Everyone starts talking at the same time. Alfred would be touched at their concern if it does not hinder him from actually _hearing_ a damn word they said. 

Finally, Master Bruce voice cuts through, “Enough! Penny-One, are you in immediate danger?”

“Not at present, sir, but I will be in about-” Alfred looks at the screen and quickly calculates how fast the Talons can reach the Manor and then figure out the existence of the Cave “--five minutes.”

“I’m coming back,” Master Bruce says. It is met immediately by protests from everyone. 

“I am coming back,” Master Bruce says louder, drowning out the other voices, “because presently I am the closest operative who is able to leave their post. Everyone else, return to your stations. Black Canary, cover mine.”

“I don’t answer to you, Batman,” Miss Lance says, “but I’ll let it slide this once. Stay safe, Penny-One.”

Alfred doesn’t have direct contact with Miss Lance, so he says, “Please let her know I will endeavor to do so, sir.”

Master Bruce grunts. “He says he will.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Miss Lance says. “Go already, Batman.”

Master Bruce doesn’t answer. Alfred knows that he’s now calculating the fastest way from Knights Stadium to the Manor. 

“B, if you mess this up…” Master Jason starts. 

“I know, Hood,” Master Bruce replies. “I won’t.”

Alfred huffs. “I am right here, sirs, and perfectly able to defend myself.” He will not be treated as if he’s some damsel in distress. No, he is not helpless at all. Quite the opposite, really. He already finished calibrating the Cave’s defenses and is now loading his shotgun. 

“Agent A,” Master Bruce says, “go to the armory. It’s the safest room in the Cave.”

Alfred clicks his tongue. “Like I said, Master Bruce, I am perfectly capable of defending myself.”

For a few moments there is silence, until Master Bruce says again, in a tone that is as pleading as it can be while wearing that damned cowl, “Please, Agent A.”

 _That_ stops Alfred. Batman is never pleading. Bruce Wayne might be, but _Batman_ is generally not. And then Alfred remembers that his boy already lost a son today --because Alfred knows how Bruce thinks and he knows that Bruce is already thinking of the worst-case scenario for Richard-- and that he has the rest of his children out in the city fighting a war. 

Bruce doesn’t want to lose Alfred too. 

He relents. “Of course, Master Bruce. I have engaged the Cave’s defense systems. Is there anything else I should be aware about?” 

“Get my arctic suit ready, and drop the temperature in the Cave as low as you can. I’ll be there in twelve minutes.”

Ah. Smart. The Cave cannot reach the temperature needed to truly freeze the Talons, but the cold can hinder the Talons from regenerating as fast as they normally would. Every little advantage counts when fighting Talons. 

“Where shall I put the suit, sir?” Alfred asks. 

“In entrance number six, Agent A. Put it as close as you can to the Cave without anyone from the inside seeing it, and then go straight to the armory.”

“Of course, sir,” Alfred says. He goes to the lockers and pulls out the arctic suit. He puts on a comm device, because he _will not_ leave his family alone, and then starts walking towards the pathway that Master Bruce had pointed out. 

“Alfred?” Master Bruce says, breaking his rule for no names in the field. 

“Yes, Master Bruce?”

“Stay safe, won’t you?”

Alfred lets out a smile, even if he knows that Master Bruce won’t be able to see it. “As I always am, Master Bruce.”

Alfred can hear Master Bruce’s snort, even through the comms. “That’s what I’m afraid of. ETA nine minutes 31 seconds.”

Nothing else comes from the comms. Alfred finishes placing the arctic suit as instructed, keeping it hidden from the Cave’s interior, then returns to the Batcomputer and starts copying the data. He’s going to take it, and his shotgun, into the armory. Just because he’ll be inside the armory doesn’t mean he’ll be useless. 

And now, all he has to do...is wait. 

***

Bruce designed the Batmobile to be able to move safely until the speed of 250 miles per hour. He is currently going at 264 miles and it’s climbing. 

He watches the trees around Bristol zoomed past. A few more miles and he will be at the Manor. 

A few more miles and he will be there to save Alfred. 

Why is it that every time his family needs him, he is not there? 

Dick, Barbara, Jason, Cass, Stephanie, Tim, even Damian. He hasn’t been there for them when they needed him. He refuses to do so again with Alfred. 

Especially with Alfred. 

Three miles away from the Manor. He’s going at 269 miles per hour. At this speed, he is going to arrive at the Manor in 40.15 seconds, rounding to the nearest hundredths second. 

It might prove 41 seconds too late. 

Two miles. 270 miles per hour. He’s pushing the limits of even the Batmobile. 

One mile. He has to start braking now. 

Bruce is very confident in his gear, but even he knows he’s cutting it close. One mile is barely enough to decelerate from 270 miles per hour to zero miles per hour. He doesn’t even have the luxury of stopping inside the Cave proper, where the floors are designed to add friction to help in braking. 

Instead, Bruce stops at a nondescript location around 35 feet west of Wayne Manor. This is the start of entrance six. It’s a treacherous route, filled with dangerous twists and turns and even drops that will be difficult to navigate without the right gear and prior knowledge of the route. 

He chose this entrance deliberately, to dissuade more Talons from following him into the Cave. However, that means that _he_ also has to navigate it, find the arctic suit that Alfred had left, and then put the suit on without detection. 

It will take an additional 137 seconds. 

One hundred thirty-six seconds later, Bruce is crouching on the entrance to the Cave proper, calculating where he would strike to do the most damage. 

Four Talons in the gym area. Two on the Batcomputer, which is shut down and locked, thanks to Alfred. A Talon is pulling the restraint off of Cobb, and another three are walking around the Cave, observing the visible weapons and gears. 

The door to the armory is still locked. Bruce spares a moment of thanks for that. 

The ones near the Batcomputer first, then. Bruce knows that most of the Talons have been on ice for centuries and would most likely be unable to hack into the Batcomputer, but he cannot be too careful. A leak from the Batcomputer would prove disastrous. 

Bruce rises out of his crouch, ready to strike, only to see four more Talons walk into the Cave. 

Bruce swears. How did he miss _four Talons_ in his home?

Those four immediately climbed on top of his priority list. The other ten are already lethargic from the cold inside the Cave, while these four are most likely fresh from the Manor, where it is perfectly warm. 

Change of plans. 

Bruce fires one of his smoke grenades to the two Talons in front of the Batcomputer, hoping to deter them from messing around and discovering something they shouldn’t have. Then, in quick succession, he throws four batarangs towards the new Talons. 

He has to remind himself that these Talons are already dead and so to aim for the arteries. 

It will not keep them down for long, but hopefully, it will keep them down long enough for the cold to get to them. Bruce is not carrying any freeze guns, having left them for Cass, who needs them more. The coldness of the Cave will just have to do. 

Bruce knows that in absence of the freeze guns, he would have to resort to beheading. But he can’t do it. Aiming for the arteries and the lethal hits is one thing, he knows that the Talon can heal from that, but beheading…

The cold will keep them from regenerating enough. It has to. 

In the middle of the fight, Bruce realizes that Alfred had been talking to him on the comms. However, he doesn’t have the attention to spare to listen to him. Not even he is good enough to fight against fourteen Talons, who all have regenerative capabilities, on his own. He hopes Alfred will forgive him. 

Use your surroundings. The Cave is his home. He knows where everything is. 

Use your surroundings. 

Bruce throws a small grenade underneath the penny.

It worked, a bit. Two Talons fall and are trapped underneath the penny. But that still leaves twelve Talons for Bruce to fight. 

Bruce rolls away and takes his stance again. Distantly, he hears Alfred say something about Fido, and he grunts an affirmation. Whatever it is that Alfred has planned, it will work. It’s Alfred. 

Bruce just has to fight twelve Talons until Alfred can run his plan.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to the people who have been following this story and reading it and giving kudos and giving comments!!!!!!!!!!!!! i love you all so much!!!!!!
> 
> and of course, all the love and thanks to my wonderful beta, [ Fori!!! ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulaypp)
> 
> see you all next week!


	9. ix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's see what dick is up to, shall we?? XD

“Come with me, Gray Son,” the Grandmaster says, simply walking off without even looking back to see whether Dick follows or not. He just walks.

Dick follows, of course. The Grandmaster is to be obeyed.

It is… concerning how easy it is for Dick to just slip back into the Talon mindset and let the Grandmaster’s orders guide his actions, considering how hard he, and Bruce, worked to dispel those thoughts. But honestly, if this is what he’s going to do for the rest of his life, he might as well get used to it now. 

“Do you know why I sent Cobb to kill you?” the Grandmaster asks. 

Dick shakes his head. He didn’t even finish it before a hand slaps his face. 

“I asked you a question,” Grandmaster scolds. “Answer it, Richard.”

Dick swallows. He hates talking because it reminds him of his time with the Court. But then, he _is_ with the Court now. So he opens his mouth, and Talon says, “No, Grandmaster.”

Dick can’t see the Grandmaster’s face, but he knows that behind that mask, the Grandmaster is smiling. Dick doesn’t do anything. The Grandmaster has won, after all. Let him gloat. There is no use in resisting.

“You were the symbol of our failure. The one that got away, I suppose. And so now, when we will begin reshaping Gotham in our image once again, we had to get rid of you first. We cannot have you alive, the very proof of our failure.”

The Grandmaster strokes Dick’s cheek. Dick represses the urge to shudder. He is Talon. He is no longer Dick. He belongs to the Court, and so the Grandmaster may do to him as he sees fit. 

He stays still. 

“But then, you showed up in the Labyrinth. You came to us. And I took that as a sign. You are destined to be with us.” The hand moves to grip his chin. “And now you’ve come back. You’ve accepted your destiny.

“You will lead your comrades in this new era, Gray Son. The era of the Court.”

A new era? 

No. That is not his problem anymore. The Court’s needs are his needs now, and if the Court wants to bring about a new era, he will help. 

He has to help. 

“It is fortunate that you are here now, Richard,” the Grandmaster continues. “Your comrades are conquering Gotham as we speak. You will help them.” He pauses, before saying in a sickeningly sweet voice, “Not even Batman can stop them now.”

He knows that that last sentence is meant to be an insult towards him, but he doesn’t rise to it. He’s not Batman, not anymore. Bruce is always better at it, anyway. He’s the _real_ Batman. Dick is just a second-rate pretender playing dress-up with the cowl. It was apparent before, but it’s even more so now, with Dick being a tool in the Court’s hands. 

With Dick returning to be a Talon.

“Now that you are here, I suppose I should call off the team heading to Wayne Manor. We weren’t sure if you would-”

“Grandmaster,” a man in an owl mask comes into the room. “There’s a new report from our Talons.”

“Hmm?” the Grandmaster turns to the door, still gripping Richard’s chin. 

“It seems that Bruce Wayne is more than he seems, Grandmaster,” the man says. 

“Oh?” the Grandmaster turns back towards him. “Do you know something about this, Richard?” he asks, voice cold. 

Dick bites his tongue. He belongs to the Court now, but in this… in this he will never say a word. 

The Grandmaster hums. He doesn’t seem perturbed in the least. And why should he? He’s won. Even if Richard bites his tongue off, it won’t make any difference. The Court has known. It’s just a matter of time until the man tells the Grandmaster. 

“What is the report, Mr. Walters?” the Grandmaster asks. 

“It seems that you are right, Grandmaster. He is Batman. Our Talons discover a cave underneath his manor that serves as his headquarters.”

“Thank you, Mr. Walters.” The Grandmaster nods. “I will take it from here.”

The man nods back and takes a seat at the table. 

“I confess I wouldn’t have thought about it, if I didn’t see you wearing that cowl with my own eyes,” the Grandmaster says to Richard. “But it’s the only explanation that would make sense. Why else would the previous Batman trust _you_ to take on the mantle?” 

The Grandmaster tilts his head. His grip tightens around Richard’s chin, to the point that it is almost painful. “But then I see. Only a _father_ would do that.”

The words _hurt_. They remind him how truly he has failed his family. He holds his breath, waiting for the Grandmaster’s next words. 

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong, Richard, but all of these points to the conclusion that the entirety of your family are the vigilantes that are such thorns in my side. I was hoping to spare them tonight, just to see what they would do when I send you to them with your uniform on and a name on your knives for them, but I’m afraid that can’t happen anymore.” The golden mask seems to glint even more as the Grandmaster speaks. “But you know that already, don’t you?”

Dick swallows. They’re going to kill his family. 

They’re going to kill his family tonight. 

Dick knows his family. If the Court is moving in to ‘reshape Gotham in their image’, as the Grandmaster says, then his family would be moving at the same time, to meet the Court every step of the way.

Only that the Court’s way to reshape Gotham is definitely to kill people. And if his family is fighting them…

Dick’s mind runs at top speed. He’s here to save his family, but if the Court is going to kill his family even with him here, then there’s no use of him being here. He might as well fight. 

He might as well die. 

It’s a better fate than being the Court’s plaything, anyway. 

Dick pulls his scattered mind back together. He needs to get out, and he needs to get out soon. Dick looks around, scanning the room for the first time. 

Three Talons on the far edge of the room. Two just near the table. One on Dick’s back, and Dick vaguely remembers that there’s another Talon on the outside of the room, ready to come in at a moment’s notice. 

Seven Talons, and one Dick.

By all rights, he shouldn’t be able to win this fight. Even he can’t take on seven Talons all by himself. But Dick and the Talons are fundamentally different in at least one more way. They fight because the Court tells them to. Dick fights because his family is in danger. Two very different things. 

Hopefully it will be enough. 

Dick looks at the Grandmaster. He’s not the body-language reader that Cass is, but even he recognizes the Grandmaster’s posture. He’s still confident. He still thinks he’s won. 

He’s wrong. He has to be wrong. 

Dick breathes in, preparing himself for the ensuing fight. Seven Talons. This is not going to be an easy fight. 

Thankfully, Dick doesn’t have to beat them. He just has to get out. 

One exit out of the room, and it’s definitely going to be crowded with the fleeing Owls the moment the fight starts. No windows, no vents, no trapdoors. 

No other way out. 

But the Talons have something else that Dick can use. They will not harm the Owls. It’s highly frowned upon behaviour for Talons. Dick even has the scars to prove it. 

Normally, Dick wouldn’t use _anyone_ as a shield. The risk is not worth it. But he knows that these Talons really won’t harm the Owls at all. 

Dick turns his eyes over to the seated Owls. Twelve of them, plus the Grandmaster. Probably only two of them are capable of fighting. 

Not that they are going to risk themselves for this. No, they’re going to leave this fight to the lowly Talons. 

Seven Talons. One way out. Thirteen hostile bystanders. One Dick. 

Dick can do this. Hopefully. 

No, he _has_ to do this. He has no other choice. 

“Well, Richard?” the Grandmaster says, breaking Dick’s concentration. “I am surprised you haven’t done anything. Maybe your time with Wayne has made you learn how to hold your tongue.”

Don’t get distracted. He’s trying to distract you. Focus, Dick, focus. You have one shot in getting out. 

“Or perhaps Wayne just doesn’t want to listen to you jabber on,” the Grandmaster continues. “A man like that, rich, powerful, _strong_ , well, he doesn’t need someone like you with him, huh?”

The Grandmaster opens his arms, goading Dick to strike him. Dick uses that. Instead of striking the Grandmaster, however, he vaults over the table, heading for the exit. As expected, the Talons move immediately. But the ones on the far side of the room have the Owls to think about, and that buys Dick several seconds. Dick dodges a thrown knife and strikes one of the Talons in front of him with his elbow. 

Down. Another knife. 

The Owls are starting to move to the door now. Dick has to be faster than them if he doesn’t want to have to fight all seven of the Talons. 

Dick runs and trips the Owl closest to the door. He goes down and so do several of the others behind him. 

Good.

Dick crouches down, shielding his body with the Owls’. Just in time too, because the Talon from outside has come into the room, brandishing her sword.

What Dick wouldn’t give for his escrima sticks right now. Or even Tim’s bo staff. 

But he doesn’t have that, so he kicks the Owl he’s shielding behind, using the kick’s momentum to lift him up. He’s careful to keep enough Owls behind him to shield him from the other Talons. 

Not enough momentum to just flip over the Talon now guarding the door. But Dick does have enough to move out of her sword’s range.

The only problem is that move brings him closer towards the Talons behind him. 

“Get him, you useless twats!” the Grandmaster shouts. For once, he doesn’t sound like he’s won. Dick smiles. 

Dick jumps up, dodging a hit from one of the Talons behind him. That sent the Talon crashing into the one guarding the door, causing them to tumble down together. 

Good. 

Still five Talons behind him and not enough cover from the Owls. But the way out is clear. 

Now is his chance. Dick has to get out _now_. 

Dick swings his arm backwards, keeping the closest Talon from hitting him. The one exit is helping Dick, now. They can hardly hit him together without hitting each other, or, even worse for them, the Owls. 

Dick redirects his momentum to crouch down and uses it to jump to the doorway. Then, he vaults over the door, keeping enough height to stay away from the two not-so-tangled-anymore Talons. 

He’s out. 

Now, getting out of the building. 

Dick _runs_. He can hear Talons running over to him, he can hear the Grandmaster shouting, and he can hear the rest of the Owls screaming, but he disregards all of it. His only objection now is to run fast enough to get out of the building. 

If he manages to get out of the building, he can lose them in the rooftops of Gotham. There is no place better than the rooftops of Gotham to lose people chasing him. 

All those speed training and weekends spent trying to keep up with Wally pay off now. Dick runs, and he doesn’t look back. 

***

Dick is in panic mode.

No, scratch that. He’s well above panic mode. He’s in the state in which his mission and only his mission exists. 

Lose the Talons. Find his family. 

He didn’t take any comms when he went out earlier today, much less his specialized gauntlets that will decipher his signing. It _seemed_ like a good idea, _before_ he has to warn his family and ask them where they all are. 

Have they faced any Talons yet? And if they have, are they alright?

Dick is letting out a spew of curses in his head. He thought they’d be safe. He thought that his sacrifice would be enough. 

It seems he hasn’t internalized enough of Bruce’s paranoia. 

Dick curses again. He doesn’t have any of his gear, but he’s learned to navigate Gotham’s rooftops even without it. He’s pretty sure he has lost the Talons tailing him, but he can tell that he’s still being watched. 

Or maybe that’s just Bruce’s paranoia talking. 

If the Court is trying to reshape Gotham, then they are pulling out all the stops. The Grandmaster said that his comrades are out already, which means that the Court is unleashing _a lot_ of their Talons. And _that_ means that Gotham is crawling with them. 

He doesn’t have anything to go from. He doesn’t know their targets, he doesn’t know _anything_ about the Court’s plans, aside from the very basic ‘reshape in our image’, and above all, he doesn’t know where any of his family is. 

Dick stops, just for a moment, as he puts together the puzzle pieces. How could he have been so stupid? He should have gone there immediately after getting out of the Court’s building. 

Dick runs to the Manor. 

When he arrives there, he sees the destruction first. Windows are smashed, doors are broken open. The Talons have truly trashed this place. 

Dick takes stock of himself. He’s unarmed, not willing to bring a weapon earlier for fear that it’ll be thought of as not surrendering himself. He doesn’t have any of his gear. His arm is still healing. 

Then, he assesses what he knows of his enemy. He is most definitely facing multiple Talons, judging from the destruction around the Manor. They are most definitely armed to the teeth, and they have their regenerative powers. 

Dick has a lot of nothing. This is going to be hard. 

He can’t come in from the front door, or from anywhere in the Manor. The Talons would have eyes on that. He can’t just come in from the main Cave entrance either. If the Talons are already in the Cave, coming in from the main entrance will mean that Dick will have to fight just to get in. 

No. Dick has to get in from one of the hidden entrances, without any gear, and not knowing whether or not he’s going to be greeted by a Talon on his way out. 

Well. He knows it’s going to be a hard night. He just doesn’t expect breaking into the Cave to be a part of it. 

Dick crawls through the treacherous passageway into the Cave. The last time he did this, he had his gear, and it was still challenging. He doesn’t have any illusions that it will be any easier this time. 

One inch at a time, Grayson. One inch at a time.

Just make sure you don’t fall.

Arm, leg, then switch. Don’t look at the way you would have gone had you had your grapple. Arm, leg, then switch. You can do this. 

The first thing Dick notices is the cold. Wasps of cold air smash into Dick even before he enters the Cave proper. 

The second thing Dick notices is that there are dozens of Talons crowded around something. 

No, not something. 

Someone. 

_Bruce_. 

The Talons haven’t noticed Dick yet. He takes stock of the Cave, noting that it’s only him, Bruce, and the Talons in sight. He doesn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand, the rest of his family not being here with the Talons is amazing. On the other hand, them not being here means that they are out in the streets of Gotham, fighting the other Talons head on. 

Dick sees that the penny is down, trapping two Talons underneath it. Did Bruce do that? 

No other weapon that Dick can use. As he said, he doesn’t have his gear, and to _get_ his gear, he would have to fight his way through in the first place. 

As if it couldn’t get any worse, Dick is shivering in the cold. Bruce is wearing his arctic suit, the one designed to withstand sub-zero temperatures. Dick is wearing shirts and loose pants. 

He knows that Bruce brought the temperature down to get through the Talons, but it’s getting through Dick too. 

There’s just too many of them. Not even Bruce can handle them for long. Dick has to intervene, regardless of his lack of gear. 

Before Dick can think of anything to do, however, the giant dinosaur in the Cave comes to life. Of course! Fido! Dick lets out a smile. 

Good boy, Fido. So there’s someone else in the Cave to do that. 

Dick pushes the thought down for now. He can find out who is here later. Now, he has to help Bruce.

Around half of the Talons are already down, thanks to Fido and the Cave’s bitter cold slowing down their regenerating abilities. Dick leaps down, landing next to Bruce. 

Bruce spares him a glance before turning back to the Talons. Dick knows that he’s doing the same thing Dick is doing, which is repressing all thought in order to finish the mission, so Dick doesn’t feel too bad about the lack of reaction. However, just before Bruce moves to fight again, he asks, “Like old times, huh, chum?”

That brings with it hundreds of unspoken things. Dick smiles. Like old times indeed. 

They have worked together for so long, have influenced each other so much, that the maneuvers come without prompting. Bruce hands Dick some escrima sticks and covers his injured side. Dick follows Bruce’s lead, going up when he goes down and down when he goes up. 

Between the two of them and the freezing cold Cave, they make short work of the remaining Talons. 

Almost as soon as they finish with the Talons, the door to the weapons room opens to reveal Alfred. So _he’s_ the one operating Fido. 

“I heard Master Bruce talk to you,” Alfred says, “but…”

Dick gives him a smile. He wants to say hundreds of things, wants to apologize, wants to go and hug Alfred and not let go, but he doesn’t have the time. _His family_ doesn’t have the time. 

Alfred must be thinking the same thing, because he takes a breath, and in an instant, his calmness returns. “It’s good to have you back, Master Richard,” Alfred says. “Shall I tell the others?”

Dick bites his lips. He really doesn’t want to be the one dealing with the reactions of his family, but he doesn’t want to disappoint Alfred. 

Bruce, as usual, comes to his rescue. “Later, Alf,” he says. Then, he turns to Dick. “Go suit up while I brief you. I assume you know what the Court is doing tonight?”

 _“Only the bare minimum,_ ” Dick signs. 

Bruce nods. “I’ll brief you. Suit up.”

And really, with that order, and Bruce giving the order, how could Dick refuse? He goes to the changing room and puts on his suit almost in autopilot, listening to Bruce’s briefing at the same time. 

“Barbara found a chip from Cobb’s gauntlet,” Bruce says. “We’re working with the GCPD to hide the targets, but we’re still undermanned. Four secure locations, one in Lower Gotham, guarded by Batgirl and Robin, one in the Narrows with Huntress and Red Robin, one in East End with Manhunter and Lady Blackhawk, and the last one in City Hall with Misfit, Hawk, and Dove. We’re baiting the Talons to go away from the secure locations and are guiding them to two predetermined locations, Robinson Park and Knights Stadium, where Red Hood, Black Bat, Catwoman, Black Canary, and Batwoman is ready to ice the Talons. I’m supposed to be in the stadium with Red Hood and Black Bat. I’m going back there, and you can help as soon as you finish suiting up. Do you have any new information from the Court?”

Dick shakes his head. He raises his hands up, ready to put on his mask, before he freezes. 

It’s the domino mask that he wears as Nightwing. In his almost dazed way of suiting up, in the Cave, nonetheless, he has put on the Nightwing suit. 

“Well?” Bruce says. “Put it on.”

Dick looks back at Bruce. His face is expressionless, made even more so by the cowl. But Dick has spent years deciphering that face. It’s not mad, nor is it disappointed. A little bit proud, even. 

But what could Bruce be proud of from Dick?

“ _It’s Nightwing._ ”

“Yes.” Bruce nods. “We need to have a conversation about that, as well as a conversation about what you did, but that can wait.”

Dick feels his brows furrowing together. He must be dreaming, because in no universe is Bruce willing to have any conversation that someone hasn’t dragged him into, kicking and screaming, but Alfred is there, as expressionless as Bruce, but with the same hint of pride. 

If Dick is dreaming, then at least Bruce is dreaming with him. Dick takes a breath and puts on his mask. 

“ _Let’s go_ ,” he signs. 

Bruce raises his hand to his cowl, activating his comms. “Everyone, Nightwing is here. We’ll reconvene with Hood and Black Bat. The rest of your missions are still the same.”

Dick puts in his comms just in time to hear the shocked exclamations from practically everyone. He hears voices overlapping with each other as everyone must have started speaking at the same time. Finally, he hears Jason’s voice, loud enough to drown everyone else. 

“Nightwing?!”

Dick smiles. He adjusts his gauntlets but then decides to forgo it. “I’m here,” Nightwing says. It’s so good to be speaking because he wants to, instead of because he is forced to. 

Silence, then voices overlapping with each other again as everyone talks over one another.

It continues for a few seconds before Bruce shouts, “Enough! Focus on the mission now.”

A few grumbles, then the comms are silent again. Dick climbs into the Batmobile, feeling both weird and grateful that he’s not the one driving. He doesn’t think he can handle driving the Batmobile so soon from coming back from the Court. 

Before Bruce turns on the engine, however, he turns to Dick and asks, “Are you ready?”

Dick looks back, calmly. He is ready. He’s going to go fight the Court with his family. He’s as ready as he can be. 

Dick nods and signs, “ _Ready_.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> where would I be without my beta??? a thousand thank yous for you, [ fori! ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulaypp)
> 
> and a thousand thank yous to people who are reading this too! we're almost there!!!!!!!!!!


	10. x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy, here we go! you didn't think i forgot about damian, did you?   
> cw: loss of limb. A Talon losses his hand in the first half of this chapter. if that bothers you, stop reading at _He can’t just disarm the Talon_ up until _Damian reads the message..._
> 
> enjoy!

Grayson is back. 

_Nightwing_ is back, and that means… that means…

It means _something_ , but Damian doesn’t want to acknowledge it yet. He’s _Nightwing_. Does that mean Richard won’t be his partner anymore?

No. Stop. Don’t acknowledge that. 

Not acknowledging _what_ it means by Richard being back, and as Nightwing to boot, is not a hard feat, considering there are multiple undead assassins with regenerative capabilities in front of him. Honestly, he should have been paying attention to the fight instead of pondering about Richard’s return. This is not an easy fight. Damian has fought countless assassins in his life, but rarely one that keeps getting up even after he dealt lethal blow after lethal blow. 

But still, the thought nags in his mind. _Richard_ is back, and that means…

The realization hits him like a truck. It means that Richard is turning his back on the Court, and _that_ means that the whole might of the Court of Owls is going to turn on Richard soon. 

Throughout the night, Damian has suspected that the Court hasn’t shown their true strength yet. Dozens of Talons descending upon Gotham is a very strong show of force, but this is an organization that has managed to stay under Batman’s nose for years. They are not to be underestimated. 

His brother is in very, very grave danger. Even worse than before.

Damian is broken out of his thoughts by a thrown knife to his direction. He ducks and turns to see the Talon he’s been fighting charging him with a sword. Damian counters with his own. 

Duck. Slash. Parry. No time to think about Richard being in danger.

Damian kicks his opponent, with a move that should have bought him a few seconds at the very least, but the Talon doesn’t react at all. It simply raises its sword and charges at Damian again. 

Damian side steps, evading the sword, and uses that to misdirect the Talon’s attack. 

Take your opponent’s energy and move it towards themselves. That’s what he’s been taught his whole life. Easier said than done, especially when your opponent doesn’t seem capable of feeling pain. 

Damian blocks a hit with his sword, arms ringing with the force. He grits his teeth. 

He needs to figure out a way to save Richard. He needs to finish this fight, _soon_. 

He needs to get the Talon off its sword if he wants to walk away from this fight. The sword gives the Talon too much advantage, when it already has so many advantages against Damian.

He can’t just disarm the Talon. It has too many weapons strapped to itself; disarming it of its sword would just make it reach for another one. His usual moves of defeating an opponent won’t work, either. The Talon just shrugs off hit after hit. 

Wait. Disarm. Dis _arm_. This might work. And with its regenerative capabilities, it might even heal the wound.

Damian deflects the Talon’s sword, retracts his own, and swings it to the Talon’s sword hand in a move he hasn’t used since coming to Gotham. 

The hand fell off with a thud. 

The Talon doesn’t scream, but it seemed dazed, at the very least. It worked. Apparently, even a Talon is shocked when losing their limbs. 

Damian takes that opportunity to slam his sword into the Talon’s spine. It worked last time, and he doesn’t have the energy, or, frankly, time, to usher it towards Robinson Park for Catwoman or Batwoman’s freeze guns. This would have to do.

The Talon stays down. Thank god. 

Damian lets go of his sword and takes a few calming breaths. He sees the hand, still clutching to its sword. 

That might be a sight too horrific for other eleven-year-olds, but Damian has seen this far too many times to be horrified by it. At least, for now. He knows he’s going to have nightmares in the near future, but that’s for later. 

Damian stays on his guard for a few more moments, confirming that there’s no other immediate threat, before he crouches down next to the severed hand. Oracle said that Black Bat found a chip in the Talon’s gauntlets. Maybe there’s something here, too. 

Maybe there’s something here he can use to save Richard.

Damian picks up the hand and starts picking the gauntlet apart. When he opens it, he is greeted with blinking lights. 

_Unsent message_ , it taunts. 

Damian reads the message, and feels his blood rush out. The Talons are calling for back-up. He is right. This is not the full strength of the Court. 

Back-up means, at the very least, even more Talons coming to Gotham. At worst, it means that the Court has another weapon, one even deadlier than the Talons. 

Damian sees images of Father, being surrounded by Talons. He sees his family dying, one by one, by the Court’s hands. He sees Richard being dragged away again by the Court, forced to do their bidding.

It’s unacceptable. Damian refuses to accept it. He’s not going to let this Court of Owls ruin his family. 

A thought comes into Damian’s mind. Maybe he can make a deal. They made a deal with Richard, didn’t they? 

Maybe Damian can make a better deal, and they will leave his family alone.

Maybe Damian can make a better deal, and they will take _him_ instead of Richard.

His life for his family’s. His freedom for Richard’s. 

A worthy exchange.

Damian makes a choice. He turns off his comms, leaves his trackers, and starts to reverse-engineer the signal from the chip for a location. 

He is going to the Court. 

***

Damian is speaking to a man wearing a golden owl mask. The Grandmaster, if Father’s files are accurate. Around him, there are people in white owl masks sitting gingerly, as if waiting for a fight to ensue. 

There are traces of a fight in this room. Richard was here. 

Richard escaped. 

And he will continue to be free, if Damian can make this deal. 

Damian stands tall in front of the Grandmaster and concludes his speech. “I am offering you a very generous proposal, Grandmaster.” He doesn’t tremble. His voice doesn’t waver. Richard will be free. His family will be safe. This will be worth it. “You can have me as your Talon. I am willing to bet that even as a child, Grayson doesn’t want to kill. That attitude hasn’t lessened with time.” 

Much to Damian’s great disdain, months ago. Now, however, he is in awe of Richard’s fortitude. Only his brother can go through all the hardships life has thrown him and still emerges stronger, faster, and _kinder_ than everyone else.

Damian breathes in and continues, “I, on the other hand, have been killing people for years.” And if Richard hadn’t taken him in, he still would be. Ironic, that to save Richard, he will resort back to killing. 

“Like Richard, I am trained as well as, if not better than, your other Talons. But unlike him, I am willing to kill. You can’t deny that I am a better choice,” Damian finishes. 

The Grandmaster doesn’t say anything for a long time. Even though Damian can’t see his face, he has a very distinct feeling of being watched. 

Finally, the Grandmaster says, “And _why_ would you want to be a Talon, young man? You’re Robin. Robin doesn’t kill.”

Damian swallows. It is true. Robin doesn’t kill. 

But al Ghuls do. 

He is making a gamble, he knows. The Court already knows that Bruce Wayne is Batman, and so, they must have known that Damian Wayne is Robin. But do they know that Damian Wayne is also an al Ghul? 

Damian breathes in. This is to save his family. This is to save _Richard_. He will take any chance, no matter how slim, to save them. 

He sends an apology to Richard, for failing everything the man has taught him, and says, “I am Damian al Ghul long before I am Robin, Grandmaster. I kill.” 

Damian keeps his chin up. He will not flinch, he tells himself. He will not flinch, no matter how much he wants to. 

The Grandmaster tilts his head. “And what do you get from this little exchange, Damian al Ghul?”

“The retreat of your Talons,” Damian answers promptly. 

“And why would I do that?” the Grandmaster’s voice is sickeningly sweet. “Their objectives have not been completed. And from the message on that chip that I am sure you have read, you know that we have more than enough power to do so.” He pauses, as if contemplating something. 

“More than enough power to _keep_ you here, and still get the Gray Son.” 

The threat lingers in the air. 

Damian doesn’t close his eyes. He knows men of this kind, has been dealing with them ever since he was born. They revel on the weaknesses of others. 

So Damian doesn’t close his eyes, but it was a very, very close thing. He knows the threat is legitimate. His family is barely getting through the night as it is; they won’t survive the Court sending _more_ Talons. 

He sends another apology: to Richard, to Pennyworth, to Father, to Brown, to Gordon, and to his siblings, even Drake. He spares a moment to mourn the life he had with Richard and to regret not being able to live it any longer. He tells himself that if he saves _this_ mourning and regretting, he will mourn other things for longer periods of time. 

Damian doesn’t close his eyes as he speaks, “Because I can help you complete their objectives. Do not send the backup. I will finish your mission.”

His voice doesn’t tremble. He does not waver. He is here to save his family, and he will do _whatever_ it takes to do so. 

The man who calls himself the Grandmaster of this damned Court doesn’t move, but Damian has far too much experience in reading men like him, even without being able to see his face. He knows the man is pleased. He knows that he has succeeded in _his_ objective. 

So why does it feel like he’s failed?

***

“Does anyone have eyes on Robin?” Steph asks into the comms. This entire day has been filled with horrible events, each worse than the last. It starts with Dick being missing, continued by having to foil _thirty-eight_ assassination attempts. Then, the Talons come to the Manor and find the Cave. Just when she thought things were _finally_ going their way, with Dick being back, _this_ happens. 

She and Damian were forced to separate because one of the Talons whom they thought had been successfully dealt with showed up on top of the house Steph and Damian were guarding. 

Damian offered to lead the Talons away, and as much as it pains her to do so, she said yes. The mission came first. They had to protect their targets, and the best way to do so is to divert the Talon while one of them moves the targets into a different location. 

So she agreed to Damian’s plan and started moving the targets to their second location. Damian has a better chance against the Talons with that sword of his. 

How is this their life, that their plan consisted of leaving an eleven-year-old kid to fight an undead assassin? 

Even though that _is_ the most effective plan. Even though that is the plan with the most chance of succeeding. 

She left Damian _strict_ instructions to stay close to everyone, to keep in contact, and to call for help. That’s the best she can do. She can’t very well leave the targets alone. 

But she hasn’t heard from Damian in fifteen minutes. She knows that Damian is not really the poster child for communicating, but he’s been getting better. And fifteen minutes without a single contact when the order was to _keep in contact_ is suspicious, even for Damian. 

“No, Batgirl,” Kate says.

Okay, okay. He isn’t in Robinson Park. That’s okay. Maybe he’s somewhere else? 

“Isn’t he with you?” Tim says, a bit breathlessly. 

Steph is starting to panic. 

“No,” she breathes out. “A Talon found our spot, and he left to bait him off. Does anyone have eyes on him? Knights team? O?”

“The twerp isn’t here,” Jason answers. 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. _Where are you, Damian_?

Steph waits for Babs’ voice with trepidation. This is it. Their last chance. 

Oracle’s voice finally fills the comms. “I can’t find him.” Steph feels her heart fall. “His comms are off. His tracker is still on, but…”

“But what, O?” Steph asks, fearing the answer.

“His tracker is on, but it hasn’t moved at all in the past thirteen minutes. Let me check the cameras.”

God-fucking-damn it. What have you gotten yourself into, Damian?

Steph swallows and says, “What do you see, O?”

A pause, before Babs lets out the worst curses Steph has ever heard. “There’s a Talon with a sword in his spine where Robin’s tracker is, but I _can’t see Robin_.”

The comms line is immediately filled with curses. Steph can pick out Dick’s mechanized sign-translation voice. She is glad that Dick is back, but she can’t even revel in it, because now _Damian_ is missing. 

The curses suddenly stop, because Babs mutes them all to say, “His tracker is in Queens and Main. Anyone free to go there?”

Silence, before Dick’s sign-to-voice fills it. “ _I’ll go_.”

“Okay,” Babs says. Then, Steph hears the sound indicating that Babs is moving to a private channel with her. 

“Batgirl, I know you’re worried, but you can’t leave the targets. Let Nightwing handle this.”

Steph knows. She _knows_ she can’t leave the targets. Just because Damian is missing doesn’t mean that she can abandon them. 

Steph grits her teeth and says, “Keep me updated O. I’m going to slap him in the head the next time I see him.”

“I’d like a turn myself, Batgirl,” Babs replies. “See if he pulls this stunt again when we’re finished with him. Do the same thing to Nightwing, too.”

Damn you, Damian. Damn _Dick_ too, because he must be where Damian learns this from. Why is this family filled with self-sacrificing idiots?

Steph feels anger rising up in her. She lets it consume her, because the alternative is dread and worry, and she cannot afford that now. 

How _dare_ that little twerp make her actually like him, and then goes and does a stunt like this? When they get him back, she is going to force Damian to go and have fun with her again as punishment. 

Then, the memory of Damian’s fake-scowling face from the last time she forces him to go out hits her, and Steph feels all her anger drain out, replaced by anguish.

“Just find him,” Steph whispers, letting her thoughts stray to Damian for the last time, before she pulls herself together and refocuses on her task. They’ll find him. They will.

And if Steph keeps repeating that, maybe she’ll actually believe it. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, a huge, huge, humongous thank you to [ fori ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulaypp) for betaing this fic. and to all of you, too, for reading this!!!! 
> 
> we're almost there!


	11. xi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go! the penultimate chapter!!!!! come get your daily dose of dick & damian angst!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Same tw as last chapter, a talon loses his hand

The moment Dick hears Steph asking if anyone has seen Robin, his mind immediately goes to worst-case scenarios. He tries to calm himself, telling himself that Damian is just taking too long to come back and that Babs will be able to find him. 

Then, teams after teams start reporting. No one knows where he is. Dick catches Jason’s eyes as he too reports that Damian is not with them. 

He looks worried. Dick is too. 

Babs will know. Babs will find him. 

But, the thing is, she doesn’t.

She says that there’s a Talon where Robin’s tracker is, and that she  _ can’t see Damian _ . The moment he hears that, Dick lets out curses after curses, both in words and in sign, and continues even after he knows that Babs is muting all of their mics, including his sign-translation. 

Because what is Damian  _ thinking _ , running off like that? 

Babs, the goddess that she is, says that Damian’s tracker is in Queens and Main. Dick looks at Cass. She nods at him. 

Dick is so lucky to have a sister like Cass. She knows what he’s thinking. She’ll cover his post and fill the rest of the family in. 

Dick sends the Talon he’s fighting into Jason’s line of fire and starts running. He spares a moment to sign, “ _ I’ll go _ ,” to Babs, knowing that his gauntlets will translate it. 

He runs as fast as he can. His little brother is missing. His little brother is in  _ danger _ , and there’s nothing Dick won’t do to save him. 

He runs and he doesn’t look back, trusting the rest of his family to adjust to him leaving. Dick has to save Damian. 

When he arrives at Queens and Main, he sees the Talon first. Like Babs said, there’s a sword in his spine. He notices the hilt, and breathes out. It’s Damian’s. 

Okay. Okay. So Damian was definitely here before. Maybe he simply loses his tracker and is now going back to Steph. 

Dick  _ wishes  _ that is the case, even though he knows that it isn’t. 

Dick crouches next to the Talon, who’s still conscious despite the sword in his spine. He hates this, he hates doing this, but he knows that he has to. He swallows and growls, “Where is he?”

The Talon simply smiles, an unnerving sight with his bloody teeth. “He’s gone,” he taunts. 

Dick’s blood boils. He wants so badly to hurt this Talon, to  _ make _ him tell him where Damian is, but he knows it won’t work. The Talon will just shake it off. He has to think of another way to figure it out.

Dick moves to stand up, before he realizes that the sword up the Talon’s spine is not his only injury. His hand is severed, and even though the wound is already closing up, Dick can see the detached hand just slightly off to where he is. 

He picks it up. The first thing he notices is that the gauntlets are disassembled.

The second thing he notices is that the gauntlet is lacking a chip he  _ knows _ is there. 

Dick’s eyes widen. This is it. Damian must have read something from the chip that causes him to run off. 

Dick grabs the sword in the Talon’s spine and pushes deeper. “What’s in the chip?” he growls. 

The Talon doesn’t even flinch. He laughs and says, “The Court is coming, Gray Son. You can’t escape the Court.”

Dick’s heart stops. The Court is sending back-up. Damian must have seen the message and rushed off, trying to fix it. 

Damn it, Damian. 

Dick signs quickly, “ _ The Court is sending back-up. Damian must have left to stop it. _ ” Then, he takes one last look towards the Talon, making sure that he’s not getting up, and runs again, as fast as he can, faster than even earlier tonight when he’s fleeing from the Court. 

He’s going back to the Court, and he’s running faster than ever. 

He hears Babs shouts, “Nightwing! Where are you going?!” 

He replies with half a mind, still thinking of ways to get there as fast as he can. “ _ 932 Mill _ ,” Dick signs as he’s running. 

“Nightwing!” Babs snaps. “You’re not going alone! Wait for back-up!”

“ _ Sorry, O _ .” His mind is running through routes after routes. If he just grapples across the Gotham Tower, then he can get to Mill Avenue thirty seconds faster. 

Every second counts against the Court.

“Nightwing, stop! Damn it, Dick, you’re not going off alone again!”

Dick turns off his comms and keeps running. He has a brother to save. 

***

932 Mill Avenue. 932 Mill Avenue. Nothing matters more than getting there as fast as possible. Nothing matters more than getting Damian _ back _ . 

Clinton Avenue. 

Pumpkin Hill Avenue. 

It’s ironic how just a few hours before, Dick went through these streets, preparing to turn himself over to the Court to save his family. Now, he’s going through these same streets again, but this time to  _ save _ Damian from doing the exact same thing he was going to do earlier. 

Damian was supposed to be  _ safe _ . He was supposed to be  _ safe _ and happy and growing up to be a wonderful man Dick knows he would be, not being used by the Court. 

All of them were supposed to be  _ safe. _ That’s the whole point of him going to the Court. 

Why is Dick so bad at keeping his family safe?

Homestead Avenue. 

Mill Avenue. He’s here. He just hopes he’s not too late. 

Dick fires his grapple, ready to swing towards 932 Mill Avenue, but then he sees a cluster of Talons on the streets. 

A cluster of Talons, and a boy in an owl mask. 

_ Robin _ in an owl mask. 

_ Damian _ in an owl mask. 

He’s too late. The Court has gotten their hands on Damian. The Court has gotten their hands on his  _ little brother _ . 

No. Dick can still fix this. He can still fix this. He has to. 

Maybe he can still trade himself back for Damian. The Court wants him, right? The Grandmaster even said that his destiny is with the Court. 

Dick can accept that, if it means that  _ Damian _ is safe. 

If trading himself,  _ again, _ to the Court is what it takes to save Damian, then that’s what he’ll do. Dick doesn’t care what happens to him, as long as Damian is safe. 

Dick abandons his grapple and jumps down, landing right in front of Damian. He looks the kid over, checking for injuries, yet not knowing  _ what _ he would do if he finds one.

He has to get Damian out. He can think of everything else later. 

Damian doesn’t seem to be injured, thank god, but Dick sees something else. Something even more gut-wrenching. 

He sees truly how  _ small _ and  _ young _ Damian is, bracketed by the Talons, all at least a full head taller than him. Damian is barely eleven, and he’s sacrificing himself to the Court. 

To save his family.

To save  _ Dick _ . 

Dick is a failure. 

The Court is supposed to be  _ his _ problem, not anyone else’s. He was supposed to handle it. Now, not only does he get his whole family involved in the affair,  _ Damian _ is in the Court’s hands. 

Dick is a failure. He just hopes he’s not too much of a failure to save Damian. 

He sees the white mask that Damian is wearing looking up at him. The white owl mask that features in countless nightmares. But when it’s Damian, he strangely doesn’t feel any fear. All he feels is the desire to rip that damn mask off his little brother’s face. 

But he can’t do that. There’s all the Talons around them to consider. Are the Talons there to incentivize Damian to behave, or are the Talons there to help Damian? 

What has the Court told Damian? What has the Court made Damian do?

Dick wants to talk to Damian so badly, but, again, there are the Talons around them to consider. How would they react with Dick persuading Damian to go home? Would they attack? They have been silent observers so far, not moving to hurt him nor Damian, but Dick won’t take that chance. 

He curls his fingers to the field signs he knows Damian will understand. Into the signs he knows he has trained Damian to obey. 

Let’s hope he obeys them this time. 

_ Stop. _

The damn owl mask covers Damian’s whole face, but Dick has spent so long learning to read Damian. He knows what the boy is saying, even when every single inch of him is covered. 

_ No _ , Damian’s fingers say. But the tilt of his head and the movement of his shoulders tells another story altogether. 

Damian  _ wants _ to go home. Damian wants to  _ not _ do this. But he’s doing it. Why is he doing it?

_ Home _ , Dick tries again. 

_ Can’t _ , Damian replies, using the same hand signals.

_ Can _ . Dick is going to  _ make _ it so that Damian can go home, no matter what. No matter what  _ he _ has to give up.

Damian shakes his head. “No,” he says, breaking the silent conversation. “I can’t.”

_ Can, _ Dick signs. Even though Damian has moved to words, Dick stays in the field signs. He can’t really explain why, a combination of not wanting the Talons to know what’s going on, hoping that the field signs will make Damian more inclined to obey him, and wanting this conversation to stay between him and Damian. 

Because that’s what it feels like, a very private conversation that he doesn’t want anyone else, especially the Court, to know. 

_ Fix this _ . Dick can fix this. He can. He just has to exchange himself for Damian. Simple. 

But Damian doesn’t seem to get the memo, because he says, “I can’t. I made a deal.”

_ Disregard _ . Dick makes that sign with more force than it actually needs. Disregard it, Damian. Whatever deal you made, just break it and come  _ home _ .

“Can’t do that.” Damian might sound unaffected to anyone else, but to Dick, Damian might as well be crying with that tone. What did the Court offer you, Damian, that you can’t break the deal?

What did they threaten you with?

_ Do not understand. _

Tell me what you bargained, Dick thinks, so that I can make it right. So that I can change it and let you go  _ home _ , safe.

Damian breaks, at least in Dick’s eyes. He doesn’t know what the Talons see. Hopefully, it doesn’t make them attack. 

Dick feels himself breaking along with Damian. 

“I made a deal,” Damian stammers. “I fixed this. I fixed everything. Go home, Nightwing. I’ve fixed this.” He stops, before continuing, “The Court won’t bother you anymore.”

Oh. 

Oh no. 

_ Damn it, Damian _ . 

He’s traded himself. For  _ Dick _ . 

Why would he do that? Dick’s not worth it. Why would he feel that he has to fix this, anyway? This is Dick’s mess. He should be the one to fix it. 

Dick wants to scream out his frustrations. He wants to ask Damian what in the world possessed him to trade himself for Dick. But, most of all, he wants to ask Damian what, in the name of all the gods, possessed him to think that Dick won’t fight the entire Court, won’t let Gotham be razed to the ground, won’t move the sun itself,  _ won’t let himself be taken away by his worst nightmare _ , for Damian. 

Dick is going to expand the field signs if they survive tonight. It is clearly lacking in articulation.

“Go home, Robin,” Dick pleads, finally breaking his silence. Then, he signs, “ _ This has nothing to do with you. The Court wants me, and they are using you to get me. _ ”

“So they’ll use me!” Damian yells frantically, voice desperate. “I don’t care, Batman! They can do whatever they want to me as long as you-” he stops abruptly. 

Dick doesn’t need Damian to finish the sentence. He knows what he was going to say.  _ As long as you are safe _ . And Dick’s heart, his heart just breaks. How can Dick fail so spectacularly, that Damian feels responsible for Dick?

That  _ his Robin _ feels responsible for his safety. 

Dick raises his hands to sign, but before he can do anything, Damian says, “It doesn’t matter anymore, Nightwing. The Court has me. You should go.”

“ _ No _ ,” Dick signs. No chance in hell. Dick is going to get Damian out, whatever it takes to do so. 

“Well, then,” Damian breathes out. “I suppose I shall have to fight you.” He shakes his head, making the white owl mask glints under the streetlight. “I don’t want to do this, Nightwing.”

“ _ Neither do I _ ,” Dick replies. He doesn’t want to do this too, doesn’t want to fight his little brother just to get him to go  _ home _ , but he will. He’ll do  _ anything  _ it takes to bring Damian home, and if it requires fighting his little brother, he’ll do it. 

However, before Dick or Damian can throw a single punch, hell breaks loose. The Talons, who were  _ just _ standing there, silent and still observers, suddenly aren’t silent or still anymore. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to [ fori ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulaypp) who fixed many, many things in this fic..... i love you so much.
> 
> and we're down to one more chapter to go, peeps! I'm excited but also oddly sad.... see you all next week!


	12. xii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you mean it's the last chapter???? surely there must be more????
> 
> but alas, this _is_ the last chapter, and we shall see the conclusion to this story! to all of you who had been following this fic along, thank you so much for reading, and i love every single one of you! (and i'm actually sad that this has come to an end...)
> 
> onward we go! enjoy!

“What’s going on?” Nightwing asks. Dick doesn’t want to speak, not in front of the Talons, but Damian has thrown away his comms and he can’t see Dick’s hands. They’re currently back-to-back, protecting each other in a position they’ve done hundreds of times before, facing the Talons surrounding them. 

“I don’t know, Nightwing!” Damian snaps. “They’re not supposed to do this!” 

Okay. So the Court is reneging on their deal with Damian. Dick can handle this. It’s not like he doesn’t know that the Court lies. 

But then, Damian says again in a broken voice, “What do we do?”

Dick breathes in. “We fight," Nightwing states.

He leaps, starting a maneuver he knows Damian is going to follow. And sure enough, he does. They fight together, falling into familiar patterns. 

As the battle goes on, Dick notices that while they’re not  _ losing _ , they’re not  _ winning,  _ either. And if it comes to endurance, he knows that the Talons can last  _ way  _ longer that they can.

He has to finish this fast. 

But a thought nags at the back of his mind. That many Talons should have been able to defeat him and Damian easily. It’s not a good thought, but that’s what his mind is telling him. 

So what is the Court planning? 

However, before Dick can follow that train of thought, he feels the tell-tale breeze of someone moving at superspeed.

***

“Nightwing!” Babs screams into her mic. “Damn it, Dick. You’re not going off alone again!” She doesn’t care how manic she sounds, she needs Dick to  _ get back _ and  _ not _ go to the Court. “Nightwing! Nightwing! Dick!” 

Silence greets her. The bastard has turned off his comms. 

Babs curses. She seems to be doing a lot of that tonight. But honestly, the situation warrants it. 

Damn Dick. Damn Damian. Damn this whole family, for being such self-sacrificing shits. 

Damn Bruce too, because all of them learned that from him. 

Babs types in the address Dick gave her into her system. 932 Mill. 932 Mill. 932 Mill Avenue, Diamond District. 

So  _ that’s _ where the Court is. How had she missed it?

“Oracle!” Tim calls in, voice panicked. Shit, she forgot about everyone else. “What’s going on with Nightwing?”

“He went off alone,” Babs answers. “He went to get Robin and turned off his comms.”

“Great,” Jason snaps. “Now we have  _ two _ missing operatives.”

“Not just that, Red Hood,” Babs says. She switches her line to call for everyone. “Everyone, listen up. Nightwing just said that the Court is sending back-up. I…” She bites her lips, dreading what she must say next. “I hate to say this, but that’s our priority now. The Court is sending back-ups and everyone needs to be at the top of their game.”

“ _ More _ Talons?” Dinah screeches. “O, you must be kidding.”

“I am not joking, Canary,” Babs answers. “Heads up, look sharp.”

“We barely have enough ammo in these freeze guns, Oracle. There’s no way we can take on another wave of Talons,” Kate says. 

“I’m  _ thinking _ , Batwoman,” Babs says, already typing in simulations after simulations. “But for now, save the ammo on those freeze guns. You’re going to need it.”

“You better think fast, O, because I see those Talons coming in,” Zinda reports. 

Damn it. Already? Babs curses again, typing even faster. She’s not going to have time to do those simulations, is she? 

“Protect those targets, at all costs, Lady Blackhawk,” Bruce orders. 

Babs abandons her typing to say, “How did you have a line to Lady Blackhawk?” Then, she sighs and continues, “Of course you do. But he’s right, Zinda. Do your best to protect the targets. I’m calling in back-up.”

“Okay, O,” Zinda says. Bruce, on the other hand, just grunts. 

Babs puts that out of her mind as she scans the list of superheroes in front of her. Flash is in the middle of a mission with Kid Flash, Wonder Woman is in Themiscyra, Arsenal won’t be able to reach Gotham fast enough…

Wait! How can she forget! Freeze breath! And they can come here almost as fast as the Flashes!

She dials the number. “Superman, I need you in Gotham.”

Clark answers immediately. “How much power do you need, Oracle?”

“Everyone you can spare,” Babs answers. “There’s a new, well, an  _ old _ enemy reemerging. They’re using undead assassins impervious to everything except extreme cold.”

“The  _ Court of Owls _ ?” Clark hisses. “They’re back?”

“You know about them?” Babs asks. 

“Heck yeah I know about them. I’ll be there in five with everyone,” Clark says. 

Babs breathes out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Superman.”

“Thank me when we finish this. See you in a few, Oracle.”

“Alright, Superman. See you.” Babs hangs up, then switches again to her line for everyone. “Back-up is coming. Superman and co. will be here in about five minutes. Stay alive ‘till then.”

“Big blue is coming?” Dinah asks. “Thank god.”

“Not thank god, Dinah,” Helena says. “Thank  _ Superman _ .”

As much as she’s glad to hear that her Birds are still in a good enough shape to banter, she can’t help but worry that it is going to take the attention needed to fight the Talons. “Cut out the chatter, everyone,” Babs orders. “Focus. You still have to fight these Talons.”

Babs watches all of them with bated breath, counting every minute until Superman arrives. Even with all the banter filling the comms, she knows that both her Birds and the rest of the Bats are exhausted from fighting against these Talons the whole night. 

Just a single mistake can cost them their lives. 

Thankfully, Clark shows up four minutes later, with Kara and Conner in tow. Between their never-lacking-in-ammo freeze breath and their super speed, they make quick work of the Talons.

More than that, Clark manages to find Dick and Damian, who were locked in battle against these new Talons in Mill Avenue. As soon as she hears that, Babs feels the knot inside her chest loosen. They’re alright. They’re alright. Her choice to prioritize the targets doesn’t cost them one of their own. 

Clark helps them finish the fight, and through the comms, she can hear him asking them if they’re alright. They both answer yes, thankfully. 

Thank god. They’re alright. They’re alright. If Babs doesn’t  _ still _ have so many things to do, she would slump in her seat, just reveling in the fact that both Dick and Damian are okay.

However, she can’t do that. She’s their eye in the sky, and she has to keep watching. 

By then, all the Talons have been dealt with, so Babs says to her mic, “Good work, everyone. Thanks for the help, Superman, Supergirl, Superboy. I’ll thank you all properly later, but can you please get out of Gotham  _ now _ so that no one has any ideas?”

They don’t need the Gotham Rogues to look up and see the Supers. The Rogues are hell enough as they are.

Clark, who is talking with Dick, finds a camera and salutes her. “I’ll get out of your hair, Oracle,” he says. Then, he turns to Dick. “I’ll be down in a while to talk to B. You’ll be there?”

Dick nods, with an expression on his face that Babs can’t figure out from this camera’s angle. What she  _ can _ see, however, is Dick tightening his hold on Damian as he waves Clark goodbye, and Damian returning the embrace. 

Despite everything, Babs feels a smile growing on her face. They’re safe. They’re safe. All of them survived the night. 

She looks to the other cameras on her monitor to be greeted by the sight of Steph flailing her arms, complaining in whispers to Kara. Then, on another feed, she sees Tim doing the same thing to Conner. 

Babs sighs and decides to let them have a few minutes. God knows they need the release, after the hellish night they’ve had. 

After the hellish night  _ everyone _ has had. But they are currently the only ones who have friends in the vicinity willing to listen, and so the rest of them will just have to make do. 

While Tim and Steph are talking to Conner and Kara, and everyone else is either sitting down or just slumped out from exhaustion, Babs looks around her view of Gotham and realizes she has a new problem. 

No, scratch that. She has  _ two _ new problems. 

One, how to transport these frozen Talons safely and detain them at the same time. 

And two, figuring out where the  _ rest _ of the Court’s arsenal is, because if her memory serves, and it always serves, there should have been way more Talons than this. 

Oh, what the hell. Add problem number three: figure out how to deal with the Talons more effectively, and figure out what to do if they aren’t susceptible to cold anymore. Because if Babs were the Court, she’s going to see that tonight, their Talons are defeated by the cold and is going to remedy it. The Court of Owls is good enough to stay hidden for fifteen years. They didn’t manage that because they’re stupid. 

Distantly, Babs hears Dick scolding Damian about recklessly endangering himself and resists the urge to snort. She’s going to deal with him later. 

She’s going to deal with  _ both _ of them later, and they’re going to regret ever going off on their own. She’ll deal with both of them later, when everyone is safe and sound and back and all of the Talons are secured. 

Babs gets to work. She has Talons to transport.

***

Dick’s first thought is that Wally is here, but he can't feel the lightning that always follows his best friend's wake.

He looks up and sees a blur of blue flying towards them. 

Superman. 

Clark has come to help. Babs must have called for back-up and Superman had picked up. 

Dick feels his entire body lighten at the sight. It’s an instinctive reaction by now, born out of years of looking up to Clark, both literally and figuratively. He knows, more than anyone, except maybe Bruce, how even Superman has his blunders. But still, the instinctive happiness and relief still come. 

Superman has come. Everything will be alright.

Dick allows himself a small smile. Their problems aren’t over yet: he and Damian still have to fight these Talons and then, he still has to figure out a way to get Damian  _ out _ of his deal with the Court, but Clark is here. 

Uncle Clark will help. Everything will be alright. 

Dick nudges Damian to look up to the sky and alters his stance. He has to account for Superman, after all.

With Clark on their side, or, more specifically, with Clark’s freeze breath, they turn over the tide pretty quickly. Yet, the same thought keeps popping up in his mind. 

How come they’re winning so easily? Even with Superman’s help, they shouldn’t be able to win this easily. 

Three more freeze breaths later, the fight is over. All the Talons around them are encased in ice. 

Clark stops, doing that little head tilt that means he’s using his superhearing, before saying to Dick, “Everywhere else’s clear. Are you alright?”

Dick nods, unable to smile. The thought nags in the back of his mind, the suspicion that the Court is planning something else. Then, another thought pops up in his mind. 

The Court is going to know that the Supers are willing to drop everything in order to help the Bats. 

Dick swears mentally, knowing that Clark can pick up even the softest whispers. He doesn’t want Clark to know. He’s just going to offer his help, and that’s what Dick is trying to avoid right now. After tonight, the Supers are probably going to jump several places in the Court’s list of enemies. Dick is not going to endanger them even further. 

It’s bad enough that his family is targeted by the Court, but to drag the Supers too? That’s even worse. 

Damn it. Dick is supposed to keep his family  _ safe from _ the Court, not adding more of them to the Court’s hit list. 

“Are you alright too, Robin?” Clark says, breaking Dick’s thoughts. 

“I am fine, Superman,” Damian replies. 

Dick pulls his little brother into his arms and keeps him there, despite Damian’s huff of displeasure. It’s faked, anyway. Dick knows Damian. Distantly, he notices that Damian is no longer wearing that cursed owl mask. He must have thrown it away in the middle of the fight, or it must have fallen. That mask isn’t designed to be worn while fighting. 

“Okay, then,” Clark nods to Damian. He turns back to Dick, smiling. “Back to Nightwing, huh?”

Dick just shrugs, unable and unwilling to explain why to Clark, the man who lets him use the name in the first place. The part of his mind that doesn’t seem to know when to  _ stop _ conjures up thoughts about how even this name is laden with expectations and burden. 

All of which Dick has spit on by his failures.

Clark squeezes Dick’s shoulder.“Good to see you back, Nightwing. I-” 

His sentence is interrupted by Babs asking the Supers to leave. As much as Dick doesn’t want Clark to leave, he knows that if the Supers are in Gotham too long, chaos will reign. 

Clark turns towards the nearest camera and salutes. “I’ll get out of your hair, Oracle,” he says. Then, he turns back to Dick and says, with the smile that has chased out nightmares after nightmares from Dick’s nights, “I’ll be down in a while to talk to B. You’ll be there?”

Clark wants to make sure he’s okay. Dick wants to smile, wants to reassure the man that he’s okay, but somehow he can’t. The Court is still out there, and this time, even Clark’s smile can’t chase that nightmare out. 

DIck just nods and holds Damian tighter, forcing himself to remember that they’ve survived the night. They’ve survived the night and Damian is here with him,  _ safe _ . 

Clark flies up, waving at him. Dick waves back. Damian, after a nudge from Dick, also begrudgingly waves. 

They watch until they can’t see Clark anymore, then, Dick crouches in front of Damian and signs, “ _ Ready to go home? _ ”

“I…” Damian looks down. “I must apologize, Bat-. Nightwing.”

What? What does Damian have to apologize for?

Damian must have seen Dick’s confused expression because he continues, “I made things worse. I went to the Court to stop them from sending more Talons but instead, I told them where everyone is.” Dick sees Damian steeling himself before looking up to Dick’s eyes. “I made things worse.”

Dick’s heart launches to his throat. Yes, Damian leaving made things more complicated than it needs to be. Now the Court knows just how much his family is willing to do for him: including sacrificing themselves and calling Superman, and they are going to use that information. 

However, more than that, more than any of that, Damian endangering himself is always a situation much worse than it needs to be, in Dick’s opinion. So, yes. By that standard, Damian did make it worse. But not in the way he thinks. 

Dick has promised Damian, early on in their partnership, that he will never lie to Damian. And excluding the promise he made to Damian yesterday to not leave, he has never broken that promise, and he doesn’t want to, ever again. 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Dick signs.

Damian’s eyes immediately go distant. It’s his version of breaking, Dick knows. That way, he can still maintain eye contact while  _ not _ having to look at Dick at the same time. 

Dick won’t have any of that. He touches the boy’s face, gently bringing him back to the present and hopefully, letting him know that he’s not mad. 

“ _ Not because of the Talons _ ,” Dick signs. “ _ You made things worse by endangering yourself. _ ”

“But-”

Dick shakes his head. “ _ We’ll have a long conversation about that later. But this? This is not your fault.” _

“I-”

“ _ Not your fault _ .”

Damian looks at Dick, searching for any sort of tell. Even with the promise of never lying to him, Damian keeps waiting for Dick to  _ break _ that promise. Even when what Dick is saying absolves him.

_ Especially _ when what Dick is saying absolves him. 

Dick shudders to think about the damage he has done to Damian, lying to him yesterday. The boy barely believes him as it is. He’s going to have to regain that trust. 

He’ll do it all over again, if it saves Damian.

“Okay,” Damian eventually whispers. 

“ _ We’ll have a long talk about today, including my actions _ ,”- because Dick knows he has done things he doesn’t want Damian to do, and he probably should be a better example-  _ “but for now, let’s just meet the others and go home. _ ” Dick smiles. “ _ Sounds good for you? _ ”

“Yes, Bat-” Damian visibly stops himself. “Yes, Nightwing,” he says again. 

They  _ also _ need to have a long talk about  _ that _ , what it means for their partnership now that Dick is back to the Nightwing mantle, but for now, Dick just wants to bury Damian in blankets, check up on the rest of his family, and maybe, if he’s lucky, spend the rest of the night with them. 

Dick takes Damian’s hand and starts walking towards the Manor. They’re going home. 

***

The Owl mask lays on the ground, forgotten by the two retreating figures, with their arms around each other as they walk.

***

“Give the order,” Sebastian announces to the room. 

“But, Grandmaster…” Mr. Shaw protests. 

“Give the order, Mr. Shaw. They have shown their hand, and so, now, we will conceal ours.”

Mrs. Shepard spoke up, “Grandmaster, we can-” 

Sebastian stops that with a flick of his hands. “No. We shall be able to complete our objectives soon enough.  _ Without _ any of these pesky vigilantes.”

“I…” Shaw starts, trailing off as Sebastian glares at him. After a while, he nods. “At once, Grandmaster.”

Sebastian hums. “Good. Oh, Mr. Wilcox?”

“Yes, Grandmaster?” Mr. Wilcox answers. 

“Bring me the seal, please. I have a letter to write to our esteemed Gray Son.” 

“Of course, Grandmaster.” Wilcox gives a small bow and exits the room. Good. Sebastian likes the members of his Court to be obedient. 

He looks around the room and says, “Everyone else, dismissed. We’ll reconvene tomorrow to go over our new plan.”

They leave, after muttering the usual platitudes. Sebastian waits until everyone has left, then, he picks up a pen and wets it with ink. 

Next to him, a trigger blinks. 

He has a lot to write to the Gray Son. 

-END-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't kill me for that ending ( ~~i have a sequel planned i promise but who knows when i will have time to write it...~~ ) 
> 
> again, _THANK YOU_ to all of you who read through this 30k+ fic of mine! and we can't end this without thanking my wonderful, wonderful, beta, [ Fori ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulaypp) who kept going and editing every chapter of this fic before i post for the week! you are a lifesaver, Fori!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> that is all for now, folks! one more time, thank you for doing this journey with me!

**Author's Note:**

> check out my tumblr [ here ](https://huilian.tumblr.com/) (huilian.tumblr.com)


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